What If
by thatgirlyoucantrust
Summary: Tommy's older and Jude's older but they're still not together...yet. Besides Tommy has all the time in the world to hook up with Jude or vice versa right? Wrong. Written from Tommy's POV.
1. Chapter 1

So I'm sitting in 1st class on a flight to Miami. I shouldn't be this happy about it, but I am. I've got this beautiful young woman sitting beside me who just so happened turned 20 a few months ago.

The problem is she has turned in to quite the player since she turned 16, had a new boyfriend every couple of months. Right now she's with Jackson Johansen. Some kid I've met for like a minute. I didn't like him. Hell I don't like any of these little boys for reasons that I'm in denial about at the moment. Anyway this Jackson kid is actually 23. An actor. He's been in a few summer blockbusters the past few years, some romantic comedies, and a few action/adventure flicks. Personally, I think his movies suck. But then again, I'm more than a little bias.

I think she might actually like this guy . She's been with him for a long time by her standards, 5 months, 3 weeks, 2 days…yes I keep a record of these things. The relationship, unfortunately, seems to be going strong. Apparently its because this guy is a real Casanova. He's been wooing Jude, and since I'm her surrogate Jamie while he's at college, I get all the details. Ooh. Ahh. Exciting.

"Can you believe we're on our way to the VMA's in Miami?" she asks, turning away from the window. I try to act cool, but she's caught me off guard, I've only been staring at her for the past hour or two.

"Yeah I can actually," I say as calmly as possible. "You've worked really hard for this Jude. You deserve it."

She smiles, and glances at me all modestly. Such a sexy look for her. "Thanks for coming with me Tommy…"

She kisses my cheek. I swear this plane could crash and burn, and I'd be a happy man. "Any thing for you girl," I respond somehow, without sounding like some sap.

She turns back to the window, and inhales deeply. "I love this view…"

I peer over her shoulder; inhaling her scent…um…it's strawberries or something berryish. "Beautiful." I whisper, my voice all husky. She tenses up slightly, but she keeps her eyes on the water. I notice her blushing and I lean back in my seat, a smile on my face. She definitely still wants me.

"I wish Jax was here," she mutters after a while.

My bubble is then burst and I remember that everything not all about me. A blow to his ego is the worse torture to any man, just in case you didn't know this already. I'm no exception. I'd rather undergo Chinese water torture. Perhaps I'm exaggerating a little, but you're getting my drift right?

Jude and I finally check into this extravagant ocean front hotel 30 minutes outside of Miami. Jude can't get over how nice the hotel is, that's what I like about her. She still notices how beautiful things are and doesn't take this lifestyle for granted.

As we're registering in the lobby, the hostess gives Jude 24 long stem roses that Jax has sent to the hotel for her.

I must admit the guy is a good, hey if I was girl I might fall for him to. But I'm a guy. I know all the tricks in the book. Mine are a tad bit rusty since I haven't been serious relationship with anyone in a while. My longest relationship was with Sadie a few years ago. I really did love the girl in my own way. She was just at a different time in her life than I was. Yeah, I'm explaining it like she broke up with me. Well that's because she did. Shocked the hell out of me too. But I wasn't exactly heartbroken.

"Ahhh…" she smiles. "He is the most thoughtful guy," she tells the receptionist, who starts to get all giggly with her.

"Hey Tommy, I'm going to run upstairs and call Jax, you handle all of this signing in and stuff can't you?" she says, heading to the elevator with the bellhop.

"Sure," I sigh, even though, she's long gone. I sign in for the both us.

"You know, my cousin loves Boyz Attack! She's from Vancouver and I went to visitor when Boyz Attack! was pretty big, and she had the posters, the comforter, pillows…" this is when I start to tune out the receptionist. Do people not notice when you do not want to be bothered? But I smile and nod at her anyway.

"Excuse me," I turn around to see a tall, black woman, with her hair pulled back, and huge sunglasses on. "I don't have all day, and I suggest if you would like to continue to converse with each other you do it when she's off the clock."

I look her up and down, not exactly checking her out, even though she does have that hourglass figure going on. She just looks familiar to me for some reason.

"I'm sorry ma'am. I didn't notice you standing there," the receptionist begins to apologize immediately.

"Um. Yes. I'm sure you never intended to overlook my nearly 6-foot, 150-pound frame. I can see you that you clearly taken aback by the player to my right."

My temperature rises. How dare she address me as if she knows me…and then that's when I place her.

"Chelsea?"

"Quincy," she smiles taking off her sunglasses.

"Hey. What are you doing here?" I ask her immediately. It's too small of a world sometimes. My ex-wife's sister being at the same hotel…

"In town for the VMA's of course. My baby's being nominated."

"How is Shay? Haven't seen him in a couple months." I ask, politely.

"He's in California, he should be flying in Saturday. He's trying to finish up his video."

"Oh I didn't know that. But you know what I need to go check out my room, and get unpacked and stuff. I'll see you around."

"Smooches." she waves, turning back to the receptionist.

I'm in my hotel room, my things long ago packed away. Well my version of unpacking. Which entails taking out the necessities, toothbrush, jell, etc. I'm flipping through channels, nothings on. I hate television. How can you have 800 channels, and nothing you want to watch on one?

The phone rings and I go into the bedroom to answer it. I half expected it to be Jude, but then decided it was probably someone else, because she would have dialed my cell.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Mr. Quincy. You're rental has just been dropped off here, the keys will be at the reception desk when you're ready," a male voice notifies me.

"Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome sir."

It's almost 4 o'clock, and I would like to see the sunset over the beach, the first night I'm here. I change in to some swim trunks and a wife beater. I debate whether or not to call Jude up or not. After about 10 minutes I decide to just go over to her hotel room, which is right beside mine. As I stand outside her door, I'm debating whether or not to ring or knock. After a minute or so I knock, even though my mind isn't fully made up, but I probably look a tad bit stalkerish standing outside her door for so long.

"Come on in."

I come in, and call out. "Hey where you at?"

"In the bedroom." she replies.

I plop on the sofa in the living room. I can see her bustling around in the bedroom hanging up stuff and dancing (trying) to Shay's newest CD. Even I must say it's probably his best CD to date. Darius actually gave him creative reign over it after he and Jude threatened to sign to other record companies if he didn't stop repressing their creative geniuses.

She finishes unpacking after a few minutes and she comes in the living room, and steals the remote from me.

"You want to go the beach with me? There's this little quiet, uninhabited part that Chaz and me found once." I explain nonchalantly.

"Yeah, let's go," she says, getting up to go to her bedroom and sliding her bedroom doors shut.

"Hey!" I call to her.

"What?"

"I'll be in the hall," I say, no need to be looking all needy by waiting in her room for her. "You better be ready, or I'm leaving you in 10 minutes."

"Yeah right," she laughs at me. She knows me all to well.

"I will. 10 minutes."

"But you know 10 minutes for me is actually 15 minutes…" she clarifies.

"10 minutes," I repeat, exiting her room.

I kill some time in my room by grabbing my backpack and putting a couple of bottles of water, towels, etc. Then I decided to raid the mini-bar right quick. After all this I still have 4 minutes. I head back to her room anyway.

I knock and she tells me to come in.

"What if I was a serial killer?" I comment, plopping back on the couch.

"You weren't," she sighs, still in the bedroom.

"I could have been."

"Then I wouldn't have said come on in…" she smiles, opening the doors, and sitting on her bed.

I throw her a serious look, and continue to eat my MM's.

"I know you're knock though. It's all impatient," she says. "Wouldn't you think a serial killer's would be slower?"

I look at her quizzically, eating another red MM.

"I'm serious," she exclaims, putting on her other flipflop.

"That's what scares me." I smirk.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." she mocks me, putting her up in a messy ballerina bun.

"Okay I'm ready," she says.

I stay seated on the couch though, finishing the green MM's. I know her well enough to know that she'll spend the next few minutes searching for something.

"Crap where'd I put my cell?" she says more to herself than me.

"Probably on the bed beneath all this," I say, entering the room to help her look. I find it and hand it to her.

"Okay, come on." she says, leading me out of her room.

She gets to the elevator before me and waits for me to catch up. She grins wickedly. "Hurry up Pops."

"26 is not old." I wince. I hate her new nickname for me. I'm longing for her to bring "lil Tommy Q" back already.

"30 is though." She retorts.

"I'm not 30."

"Close enough…" she sings.

"Well you're boyfriend is 3 year's younger than me."

"Actually 2 and some months." She corrects me.

I roll my eyes and watch the elevator descend. I love glass elevators. All elevators should be glass.

She takes a hold of my arm and semi hugs me. For the second time today, I could die a happy man. "You know I'm just teasing." she grins at me. "What do you want for your birthday anyway?"

Now I could answer this question several ways…I could lie…I have everything I want...tell her what I don't want…which would be a surprise party, or I could tell her all I want is her…yeah right like that's going to happen. What I say is, "I don't know ask me, later."

"Ugh you always say that…" she sighs, exiting the elevator. I walk toward the reception area and get the keys from the receptionist. She's not the same one that was there when we checked in. This one would be pretty if it weren't for all the botox injections. She looks surprised when I asked for my keys. I try hard not to laugh aloud. Unlike Jude.

As the valet brings around the convertible, Jude slowly turns to me. "You have to let me drive this car."

"I haven't even driven it yet."

"Please…'

"Why…" I ask confused. She's never showed that much interest in cars before.

"This car is sick." she says.

"Sure you can drive," I say, hopping into the passenger's seat. Hey it's not like it's my car or something.

She cranks it up, and screeches out of the parking lot. I'm instantly regretting my decision, as I choke on the brown MM's. Apparently practice does not make perfect. "Speed limit, Jude. Speed limit."

It seems that she's tuning me out. "This baby turns corners like it's on rails. I'm so getting one of these."

"Turn right up here at this light." I say trying to get her away from people and onto an open road.

After a mile or two of silence, I ask her about where she learned about cars.

"Jax. He compares driving cars to sex."

Now that is pitiful. Driving a car cannot be compared to having sex. I keep my mouth shut about this though. No use in starting an argument…especially since no one's here to mediate between us.

We hit the freeway where I almost piss in my pants. She's hitting 100 mph. If she wasn't a singer, she could definitely get into NASCAR. Where is a police officer when you need one anyway?

I remind her of the speed limit again.

"Oh come on don't be such a pansy," she teases.

Ha, me a pansy? So I don't say anything about her crazy ass driving for the rest of the ride until she gets too into a song on the radio and takes her hands off the steering wheel. Enough is enough.

When we actually make it this little deserted beach, I actually give a small little prayer even though I'm not that religious. I open up my door and get out the car my legs all wobbly.

"That was incredible!" she sighs, throwing me the keys.

I give her a look and begin to walk towards the wooded area. I wasn't sure exactly where it was because it's been a while since I've been here. Chaz and I discovered it once when we were touring, during those times when we were actually getting along.

"Tommy. You know that I'm not a hiking kind of girl," Jude complained, walking behind me. "There's probably poison ivy or something here."

"I don't think there's much poison ivy in Florida," I muse. "Just alligators." I couldn't resist, I had to get her back from earlier.

She grabbed a hold of my shirt. "That is not funny."

"I didn't mean it to be. Alligators just cross the road all the time here." I smile, helping her over some spilled logs.

She rolled her eyes. "I feel like I've crossed through the dark side."

"Appreciate the scene."

"Well maybe if I had planned for a little hike I would be able to appreciate it."

"You hear the water," I ask her.

She stops a minute to listen. "Yeah…I was beginning to wonder…"

"Wonder about what…" I ask, grabbing her hand, making it seem like it was more for her benefit, but the truth is I just like the feel of it.

"If you were trying to seduce me or something…"

I stop in my tracks and look at her curiously. I would definitely not take her through a hike in the woods to seduce her. It would be more like rose petals leading to the bedroom type of thing. I laugh and shake my head.

"What?" she asks.

"If I wanted to seduce you, you'd know it." I smirk.

"Good to know," she snaps.

I smile because I've hit a nerve. She's blushing like crazy, but that could be from the little workout. But I'll just say it's from my little comment.

We make it through the woods, and find ourselves facing a beautiful oceanfront view. "Wow." she breathes.

"I know right," I say, watching her look at the view. She closes her eyes as the breeze sweeps around the strands of hair around her face. She couldn't be more beautiful at that moment.

"I would love to live on the beach," she says opening her eyes. "Can you imagine if you woke up to this every morning?"

My arms breakout in chill bumps, not because of the light sea breeze blowing over me, but because I could imagine waking up to the sound of the waves, and her every morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So I forgot the disclaimer on the firstchapter. Well that's because I own Instant Star. Yuh. I do. That's why I'm sitting here writing a fanfiction. Just running ideas for the show past you guys.So I'm lying. I don't own anything affiliated with Instant Star.**

**Thanks again to KayKay2007, Giliwascool,EmmyM, amdISobsessedXOfor reading AND reviewing. It's very much appreciated. :)**

We're sitting on the beach watching the sun descend into the ocean. I would give up music for the rest of my life if she weren't with Jax, if I could muster up enough courage, and confidence to tell her how I feel about her right now. But that's not going to happening, at least for a while. So I'm just enjoying being next to her, and sharing the view.

"I should have brought my guitar," she thinks aloud.

"Feeling inspired?"

"Yeah, actually I am." She replies, pulling a notebook out her bag.

I sit and watch as she quickly scribbles something down. By the time she's finished it's about a page long. She looks up and grins and me.

"What you're not going to let me read it?"

"Uh no. It's not even lyrics really, just a concept for a song," she explains, putting her notebook back in her bag. I don't push the issue anymore. I'll get to see it eventually anyway.

"You want to get started back before it gets too dark?" I ask her.

She glances over her shoulder at me, and wraps her arms around her knees. "Nah. You scared?"

"Ha. Aren't you cute?" I reply, laying on my back. Jude's saying something to me, but I'm too caught up at looking at the stars that are just appearing.

"Quincy?" she exclaims, waving her hand in front of my face.

"Yeah?"

"What time is it?"

I hold out my watch for her to look at.

"Um…8:05…" she sighs, laying down on her back beside me.

"What you got a date?" I joke.

"Sorta…" she smiles.

"Um that's a yes or no question…" I smirk.

"Jax is calling me when he gets off…" she explains.

"Can't miss that." Some how I manage to say this with a very small amount of sarcasm in my tone.

She turns on her side and looks at me. Oh god. I feel a little heart to heart coming on.

"I just…I don't know he's different… from all the other guys I've ever dated." She stutters. "Believe me, I never thought I'd be falling in love with some preppie, pretty-boy actor."

"Uh huh." I say trying to contribute a little to the conversation.

"And he's so sweet. The flowers in the lobby? Most guys only do that as a I'm-sorry-for-forgetting-Valentine's-Day type gift." She sighs. "He's almost to good to be true. You know what I mean?"

"Yup," I wince. I know exactly what she means. I've sent Post-Valentine's Day's flowers before. "Well you know, if it's too good to be true, then it's probably not true."

This is one of those moments where you wish you had a rewind button, too bad life is not on t-vo. I would love to take those words back.

"Meaning?" she snaps, instantly sitting up.

"I heard it on Oprah one day…"

"Yeah okay…" she laughs. "Since when did you start watching Oprah?"

"It was a one time thing…" I explain, trying to lighten the mood. I'm glad that it's dark so that she is not able to see my face. But since she can't, I can get away with lying.

"Right…" she says, standing up. "I'm hungry. Let's get going now."

"Yeah okay," I reply. But I'm pissed off at myself because I've ruined our little mood we had going on.

As we back towards the woods, she keeps a firm grip on the back of my shirt.

"The freaks don't really come out at night," I tease.

"I know that," she said, easing her grasp. "They're out all the time these days."

"True."

When we see the car again, she tries to make a run for the driver's seat, but I kindly redirect her to the passenger's seat.

"No more of you driving me around for another few years," I assure her.

"You can't handle it Quincy?"

"Nah. No I can't." I say cranking up.

"It's that age catching up to you," she says matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I'm growing up and figuring out what I want," I say, seriously. Then add, "Which is not to die early by getting in the car with you."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." She mimics me.

"You want me to put the top up?" I ask her, before I pull out.

"Nah leave it down," she replies.

So I do.

"So you have life I figured out now that you are all old…" she teases.

"Nah. Not life in general, just what I want out of it," I tell her. I look at her out the corner of my eye, she's nodding like she understands where I'm coming from.

"And that is?"

I take a deep breath, and let it slowly. I can't decide what I want to tell her, what parts I want to keep to myself. So I decided to be as a vague as possible. "Kids. Definitely."

"Boys or girls?" she probes.

"Both."

"And what would you name him if it was a boy?" she asks.

I begin to think we're playing 21 questions. "Why?"

"I want to know," she says, as if that's explanation enough.

"I've never really thought about it. Thomas IV?"

She scoffs at this answer.

"What?" I ask her, slightly uneasy.

"I would never name my son after his dad," she says matter-of-factly. "I mean, I do all the work, and whoever the baby's dad is expects it to be named after him? I don't think so."

"Well the baby's dad put some work in it to…" I remind her.

"Yeah the fun part," she laughs.

"You have a point," I surrender. There is no way I can fight her when she plays the child birthing card "But it's tradition for me at least. Thomas IV. That's four generations there Quincies."

"I hope you find someone that likes that name then…" she replies, in a sing-song-voice.

"So you don't think the dad should have any say in the matter of naming the baby," I ask her.

"Oh he can help name the baby it's just not going to be called Junior or J.R.," she explains.

"What about for the middle name?"

After a pause, she says, "That's acceptable in cases such as yours…where the baby would be like the 3rd or 4th generation."

I smile to myself. She's such a…what's another word for control freak? Ahh we'll just go with that for now. I decide to change the subject though. "So where you taking me out to dinner at?"

"Pshhh, where are YOU taking me?" she yawns, stretching arms out.

"What? You getting sleepy?" I taunt her.

"No," she denies. "Hungry."

"You feel like eating in, grabbing a fat burger…?"

"How about a pizza? There was a pizza joint near the hotel," she yawns again.

"Sounds good."

We get back to the hotel after a few hours and go our separate ways. I'm lying in bed; staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come on. I give up on this after a few hours of channel surfing. I can never sleep well on the first night somewhere. So I throw on some jeans and slip downstairs to the bar.

I'm sitting at the bar, there's hardly anyone in here though. They close in about 40 minutes.

"Hey," someone says, I glance over my shoulder quickly, thinking it might be Jude.

"Hey, Chelsea." I mutter, the disappointment apparent in my voice. I turn back to the bar, and sip my drink. I'll need a couple more of them before the night is over if she's planning to sit and have a chat. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm about to go up to my room…what's the matter with you?" she says, perching on the stool beside me.

"Uh nothing. Jetlag. Can't sleep." I murmur, which isn't a lie, exactly. In all actuality I'm trying to remember every single thing that happened during dinner with Jude. Everything we said to each other, what kind of pizza we ate, what she wore. The way the light reflected off her eyes...

"What are you smiling for?" she asks me, leaning on the bar. She places her chin on her hand and looks at me intently.

"I'm just happy to see you again," I lie. She's got a look of disbelief on her face. I should know better than to try to charm her.

"Yeah. Right." She smiles. "Like I said…what are you smiling about?"

"Nothing really, it's just been a long day, and I'm suffering from sleep deprivation," I reply, taking another sip of my drink.

"Uh huh. You've been doing good?"

"Yes."

"How's Kwest?"

"Honeymooning in Fiji."

"It was beautiful wedding, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was,"

"Would you ever honeymoon in Fiji?"

"Sure."

"Would you take her?"

"Probably."

"What's her name?"

"Ju-…" I cannot believe I almost said that.

"Oh…what was that?" she says, looking like she ate the last cookie.

Now how the hell am I supposed to answer that? I decide to shrug and change the subject. "Uh…what are you doing tomorrow?" Ahh…I could have came up with something better than that.

"Parasailing. You want to come? I seen JUDE Harrison, you produce her right? I invited her along too," she says, sweetly. I'm so busted. She knows it. I know it. What a manipulative cow…well she didn't exactly manipulate me…but she's a cow anyway.

"Really? That's good." I say, chomping on the ice cubes in my glass. I attempt to make pleasant small talk. "Have you ever been before?"

"Ummm humm. JUDE hasn't though. She was excited when I invited her along a while ago," she smiles. I don't know why the hell she keeps saying her name like it needs that many syllables.

"Really?" Now I'm trying to say as a little as possible. Perhaps the Sea Breezes are getting to me.

"Yes. Have you ever been before?" she asks.

"Nope can't say I have. I've got a small fear of heights," I say, plastering a smile to my face. So I forget about the impulse to tell her to go to hell. You have to be nice to your boss's sister. Not only is she Darius's sister she's Shay's manager, and she has pull in the business on her own. Maybe more than Darius since she's older than him.

"Ahh, you'll be okay I'm sure." She assures me, patting my hand. I really don't like her. Well she's okay sometimes…but this doesn't happen to be one of those times.

"Yeah, I'll come," I yawn, sliding off my stool and stretching. I change my mind, fun in the sun with Jude, it can't get any better and it's really not like Chels has anything on me. Jude is with Jackson…

"Great," she says, turning her stool around so she can face me. "We'll meet up in the lobby in the morning at 7:00."

"Um…better hit the sack then," I say, already walking toward the door. "See you in the morning."

"Smooches."

I wave to her, and hurry out the door as quickly as possible.

"Smooches," I mimic as I wait for the elevator. So annoying. Why can't she just say "good-bye" like a normal person? I will never know.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading and special thanks to: GiliwasCool, babyf, intheclosetromantic, KayKay2007 for reviewing.**

"Quincy? Get your ass up."

I gingerly open one eye and then the other but my vision still isn't quite focused.

"Chelsea scheduled us a wake up call like an hour ago but yet you're still in the bed. You have 25 minutes to be downstairs…"

I rub my eyes and look to see Jude standing with her hand on her hip.

"Wake me up in like 20 minutes then," I say, rolling over onto my back. I feel her shake me, but I swat her away. "Okay 10 more minutes then."

"Tom. Get up." She says walking around to the other side of the bed. I place the pillow over my head. What can I say? I'm not at all a morning person, and it's not going to take me a whole 25 minutes to get dressed, 45 seconds maximum….

"Jude. Get out of my room," I moan, it's not like I even want to go parasailing in the first place.

"Tommy…if you don't get up," she threatens. I feel her climb on the edge of the bed. "Fine you asked for it."

She snatches the comforter off the bed. "Oh my god…" she screeches, closing her eyes.

Ha. I'm pretty sure that was a good "oh my god". The sleeping in just briefs with a little morning wood was probably not something she was expecting. But it's Florida; it's hot and humid. She better be lucky I had anything on.

I take the pillow off my head. The expression on her face is slightly a look of amusement, mixed with a lot embarrassment, and should I dare to say amazement? She walks out on the balcony. I'm guessing fresh air is required for this level of awkwardness. I'm sure this will make it on to her top 10; perhaps it's above the sweet 16-birthday party.

"Let me go get that," she says, hurrying back inside.

"Get what?" I inquire, not moving a muscle to get up.

"There wasn't a knock at the door?" she asks, standing in the doorframe, focusing her attention on her bracelet.

"I didn't hear it…" I say honestly. Ha. She didn't hear a thing. I know it; she knows it.

"I'm sure there was," she replies, backing out the door.

"If you say so," I reply, smirking.

She rolls her eyes and walks out the room all together, slamming the door behind her. I smile to myself and hop on out of bed. I've unhinged her…again. The games aren't fun to play…I'm lying they are fun.

* * *

By the time I get to the lobby, with 2 minutes to spare, Jude and Chelsea are sitting on a couch having a very animated conversation about something. 

"Hey Tom, I didn't think you'd make it down on time," Chelsea smiles at me, holding out a cup of coffee to me. Ah…this is one of those times I like her. Jude seems to be taking a huge interest in the oriental carpet on the floor though. "You remember my godson Myles and my husband Ethan right?"

I look over at the couch at Myles who pauses his Gameboy long enough to slap hands with me…I've never even met Ethan properly before. He's Chelsea's newest husband, but I think it's her longest marriage. First impression? Dork. The man's wearing Khakis and a button up shirt and actual shoes…in Miami? Unheard of. "Hey man, how's it going?"

"It's going good," he replies standing up to properly shake my hand. "Have you ever been parasailing?"

"Nah."

"Me neither. I'm not a big adventure guy…" he admitted. Like I couldn't tell. He looks like the archetype of a nerd. That was harsh…but true.

I nod my head and sit down on the sofa next to him. "We'll leave as soon at my daughter Stephanie gets down here. Prepare to wait a few minutes. You know teenagers."

"Women in general…" I mutter.

Jude finally acknowledges my presence in the room, but only to throw daggers at me for my last comment I'm guessing. But its true…women do take longer. But I don't mind, the end result is usually good. Usually.

After a few more minutes of meaningless conversation the infamous Stephanie finally makes it downstairs. First impression? Airhead. Brat. Spoiled. Again, that's a pretty harsh first impression. But her outfit probably costs more than my Viper, and the cell attached to her ear this early in the morning gave me some ideas. Maybe she'll prove me wrong. I doubt it. Few people surprise me; I've been in the entertainment business for too long for people to shock me. The last person who did was probably…Jude.

"Honey…?" Ethan stands up and gestures for her to join us.

"Dad, you do NOT call me that in public places. I thought I made this clear last time," she grimaces, and then takes notice to me.

"You are NOT Lil Tommy Q…" she squeals.

"You're right. I'm Thomas Quincy…" I'd like to add bitch to that, but that'd be a little crude, I smile instead.

"From Boyz Attack?"

"Yes," I grumble, plastering my corporate smile to my face. I feel a major migraine coming on by the end of this day.

We all slumber out of the hotel and into an excursion with Ethan behind the wheel. How I get to sit beside Stephanie I have no clue. Well yeah I do. Jude's trying to look and talk to me as little as possible at the moment. But she could have had a little mercy on me and bumped Miami Barbie out the way. I was planning on catching a just a little bit of sleep…but nope. That's probably not happening.

"I wonder how come Chelsea and my dad failed to mention to me that you would be coming along," she states, aloud.

I'm thankful she didn't know though because at least now she didn't get a chance to invite a dozen or two of her little posse along.

"It was a last minute thing," Chelsea explains, "Jude and I got reacquainted last night at the bar so I invited her, and then I bumped into Tom, so I invited him too, you're dad did rent out the WHOLE boat for the rest of the day. He is always trying to get us the best of everything…" she smiles, looking at her husband all…lovey-dovey.

Stephanie looks a way from them in disgust and focuses all of her attention on me. "That's why I never plan on anything," she admits, twisting her finger around her hair, "All the good things that happen seem to happen spontaneously. You know what I mean?" she asks, suggestively.

Ew. I know what she means, but she's being a little too…flirtatious? Anyway she's what 16? Maybe 17? And why the hell isn't Ethan saying anything to her? If I had a daughter, I definitely wouldn't be letting her basically throw herself at a grown ass man. And my daughter would never go out of the house in a skirt that came up to her navel. "Uh huh." I reply. Thank god, her cell phone rings briefly distracting her. I take advantage of this and slip on my I-pod and drift off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**I am quickly becoming addicted to the reviews I'm getting. I probably checked my inbox like 35743 times today. Thanks to: joshwife, bookworm0408, KayKay2007, an addict, intoyou14, ISobsessedXO, -Xrockstar2bX-, for feeding my addiction. **

* * *

I instantly wake up when Jude opens the car door I was leaning on. What I really don't understand is why Jude's upset at me. I didn't mean to flash her…she did it herself.

"We're here," she smiles. She waits for me to untangle myself from my seatbelt and walks beside me to the dock where the others are already boarding the boat. "Have a nice nap?"

I look at her sideways wondering why she's being so nice all of sudden. I decide not to question it though. "No not really, I couldn't quite tune out Stephanie."

"At least you didn't have to sit beside boy genius…Myles is a genius. His I.Q. is about 147. I asked how much longer it was until we got to the dock and he says "If we continue to accelerate at this rate, 10 minutes and 25 seconds, give or take a few seconds." And he didn't even look up from his video game."

"Sounds like Myles…" Once I asked him if I could play his Gameboy and he gave me the probability of me getting pass level one on the first, second, third tries.

"You scared?" Jude asks me. We're sitting on a boat watching Myles parasailing. Chelsea and Ethan, who have already done their turn, were below deck snacking.

I wonder what made her think I was scared? Could it be my jitteriness or the sweat pouring off of me? "Nah, girl I'm not scared. You?"

"Yeah a little bit. I don't think I want to do it…" she admits.

What the hell? If she's not going to do it, I'm definitely not doing it… "Ah, girl if I can do it, you can do it…"

"You know, you guys could go up in tandem like Mr. and Mrs. Yountz," The instructor cut in.

"You know harnessed together," he explained.

"I don't know…" Jude replies.

"You'll be fine," he winks at her. Dang, can the man flirt with her anymore obviously? Eww…she's smiling back. WTF?

"Jude, did you ever talk to Jax," I ask, breaking their little buzz. She does not need a little Miami player in her face ogling her goodies. And the swimsuit she's wearing does not have to be that skimpy. Aren't one piece suits in this season? If not they should be.

"Yeah I talked to him this morning," Jude answers, looking at me questioningly.

"Jax?" the instructor asks. Ha. He's taking the bait. Yeah…buddy she has a boyfriend.

"He's my…"

"Boyfriend." I interrupt. I can't help it. The Miami pimp is irritating me, acting like he's really doing that much work. He gets to be out in the sun all day long, on the water, a friggin dream job.

Jude throws me a dirty look and mouths, "what's your problem?" when Miami has his back turned to us.

I shrug at her as if I don't know what she's talking about.

"You're a jerk," she whispers to me.

Well damn. I love her too. Name-calling is definitely not in order here though. I'm just trying to look out for her. Apparently she's completely oblivious to Miami's little rap he was trying to play for her.

"What I do?" I ask, innocently. Because I am innocent…

"Tommy, don't act dumb. Even though you play so well…"

Okay that's strike two. "Jude what are you talking about? You are always making something out of nothing."

"Ha. I'm always making something out of nothing? What about you? Huh? Donovan was just doing a little flirting probably because he wants a huge ass tip."

Okay she has a point but she really doesn't have to know that right now. "You have a boyfriend," I state.

"And…I'm not married to him. He get to be on a movie set all day with beautiful girls throwing their stuff all over him. Why can't I look at a little eye candy?"

"You have a boyfriend…" I state again weakly.

"Well damn, Tommy I wasn't going to give him my number or invite him back to the hotel room or anything."

Over my drowned body…

"Sorry. You've got me confused with yourself."

Strike three.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I ask raising my voice.

"You know what it means," she says, sliding back on her sunglasses and crossing her arms over her chest, briefly breaking my concentration.

"What?"

"You're playing dumb…"she hisses.

"I'm trying to get down to your level…"

"The hell you are…" she snaps. "Grow the hell up."

"You first…" I smirk. I know a childish comeback, but she looks hot when she gets all riled up about something. I can't even stay mad for too long, because I get distracted and I forget my point. "Ha. I need to grow up. What about you?"

"What about me?" she asks, taking her glasses off again. "When have I ever acted as childish as you are right now?"

"It would be easier naming a time that you didn't…"

"Whatever. Name a time where I've acted like a child…" she demands, then adds. "Since I've been over 18…"

"This morning…" I smirk.

Her mouth drops open, and she can't even look at me. She replaces her sunglasses and sits up straight. I'm bracing myself for a full blowout.

"Okay…" she shrugs and nods. "I'll give you that. I walked into it."

I'm slightly shocked. What I get off that easy? Nah, there's a catch. There's got to be a catch.

"But you're still an asshole," she exclaims, just as Donovan kills the engine and begins to reel in Myles.

"Lovers' quarrel?" Ethan chuckles, coming back from below deck with a bottle of water. I don't even know why Chelsea married that man. At first glance, you'd think Chels married him for his money. He's an investment banker. But she holds her own in the finance department. You'd never think the dork would be associated with anything remotely, I hate to say cool, but I'll just go with that. He's wearing socks and thong sandals for heaven's sakes. I'm not a fashion guru, but come on now.

"No." Jude and I say in an even tone.

Ethan chuckles again. It sounds like he's having an asthma attack: all wheezy and gaspy. I try to keep a blank look on my face, even though it's getting harder and harder not to crack.

"No they're not going out. Jude is going out with Jackson Johansen and Tommy's not dating anyone…but that can be fixed." Stephanie says taking a break from her cell phone for a while. I wonder how she gets reception out here on the water. I'm guessing it's a satellite phone.

"You know what I'm actually seeing someone…" I lie, shamelessly.

"Really? Because I didn't hear this yet and I'm Paris Hilton's e-mail lists, which means I hear it first."

"Well, you know I think I want this one to last, so I'm just going to keep this on the DL you know."

"Oh you can tell me…" she smiles, sweetly.

Ha. Yeah right, I could tell her if I wanted to spread the word as quickly as possible. Her cell phone vibrates, and she checks who the caller is. Apparently it is someone pretty important because she answers, and gestures for me to wait a minute.

"Hello?"

"Girl, I'm on a boat with Lil Tommy Q…duh of Boyz Attack!" she says, taking her conversation to the other end of the boat. Jude, who's been trying to stifle her laughter, can't take it anymore and busts out laughing.

"You didn't tell me you were dating anyone, Tommy." Jude laughs.

I don't think it's a laughing matter. I look at her seriously until she finally stops laughing.

"What?" she asks hiccupping. "I'm just teasing…the look on your face was priceless."

"Right…"

"Ah…don't be like that. You know I love you…" she says, semi-hugging me.

I drape my arm over her shoulder. "I can't tell." I reply, looking at her intently.

"You sure this can hold the both of us?" Jude asks Donovan. I roll my eyes; she's only been stalling for the past 20 minutes or so. It's been 10 minutes since Myles has descended and I've been in the harness a good 5 minutes.

"You and Tom's weight will have enough momentum to keep you in the air. How much do you weigh?" Myles ask her, still not looking up from his game.

"You don't ask women that!" Jude snaps.

"Well, how much do you weigh Tom?" Myles asks, sighing.

"167." All Muscle.

"Well if Jude weighs anywhere between 100 and 200 pounds you'll be fine," Myles guarantees us.

"You WILL be fine," Miami reassures her, rubbing her back. Ugh, he doesn't need to console her. If she needed to be consoled I'd definitely be the one doing it. She needs a little back up right now not babying.

"Jude, let the man harness you already," I yell. "Now!"

"Okay. Okay." She sighs, stepping into the harness. "What about sharks?"

"Jude?" I grumble.

"What? That's valid question." She says, nodding her head.

"You're probability of being eaten by shark Jude, if you include the factors like what time of day it is, the temperature of the water, and how far we are from the shore we are is about 1 in 3 million." Myles informs us.

"Really?" Jude and I ask in unison.

"You're more likely to die in a car crash on your way back to the hotel."

Okay… The kid needs to shut up. After he tells us this bit of information I didn't think Jude would ever go up, but she surprised me again.

"Inhale Jude…" I encourage her. Miami finishes snapping and strapping the harness together, and then he tugs a little here and there securing the harness.

"You ready?" he asks us.

"No." Jude answers.

"Yes." I reply.

"I really don't feel comfortable with this…" Jude comments, almost hyperventilating. Ha! She doesn't feel comfortable with this? I don't feel comfortable with this. We're so close we're breathing some air here; definitely more than a little intimate.

I wrap my arms around her waist, and signal for Miami to go ahead and rev up the engine. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"You better not," she mutters wrapping her arms around mine for extra stability.

Miami starts the boat and the parachute catches the wind. Jude squeezes her eyes shut and promptly screams. We quickly float higher and higher as Miami reels us out.

"Jude," I tap her, after she finally stops screaming. "Open your eyes girl."

"Uh no." she replies, like I'm the stupidest person in the world.

"Just do it." I laugh.

She opens up one eye at a time and gasps. "Oh. My. God. This is amazing."

"I know right…" the view is definitely something spectacular, the sun reflecting off the blue of the ocean was definitely awe-inspiring. It feels like (I hate to be so cliché) like we're flying. It's definitely better than any drug that I've ever had.

"I cannot believe I was about to chicken out on this," she laughs, loosening her hold on my forearms. Thank goodness. I can feel the blood circulating again.

"This is like being at the top of the world," she yells.

I laugh nervously not only because I'm a few hundred feet in the air but also because she read my mind. It does feel like we're at the top of the world because of the view of course, but also all of these overwhelming feelings I'm feeling for her at the moment. It feels like I can accomplish anything with her not just parasailing, and music, but you know…the whole life thing.

"Thanks for pressuring me to do this time," she smiles, awkwardly turning so she can face me.

I shrug. "You just needed a little pushing."

"Thanks all the same…" she replies, kissing my cheek.

We could get caught up in a crosswind and sink into the ocean. And I could swallow several gallons of seawater, and I think I'd still be happy after that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you: KayKay2007, LuvTommy5, and an addict for reading and reviewing for that last chapter.**

It's 6:45 in the morning. I don't know what the hell's up with all these early mornings. This is supposed to be a little mini-vacation. It's okay though. I can handle this…I see the waitress coming around with my pancakes.

"This is not happening…just let me wake up God," Jude moans, laying her head on the table. For a good reason, it's never good being on the front of a tabloid, especially with your musical artist and all around "just-a-good-friend."

"It's a good picture…" I smile until she throws me a horror-struck look. It really is a good picture though; we both look…happy? Yeah, happy. Happy describes us perfectly.

"Tommy? How the hell would the paparazzi get a picture this close up?" she asks, staring at the picture of us on the front of Celebrity Fuss.

I have been racking my brain around the same question since my brain became functional. My guess is Miss Stephanie. I should repay her somehow for getting my good side and all.

I shrug. "The picture really isn't that bad Jude…it's definitely not the worse picture the tabloids have ever had of me. Or of you for the matter."

"Hey," she laughs, covering her face with her hands. "I wonder what Jax is going to think."

Maybe he'll break up with her. Nah, that'll leave her devastated and she'll blame me. Maybe he'll get jealous and ruin it himself. That would be the best scenario to go with I think. That way she would be the dumper…I really wouldn't be at fault all that much. Aw…yeah if the world was perfect that's how the Jude/Jax break-up would happen.

"I'll doubt he'll care. He knows all about good and bad publicity from the press and tabloids." I assure her, rubbing her back.

I'm lying. Guys care about these things. We all care on some level or another. Some of us just choose to ignore it and some of us choose to view it as competition with the "other man."

"You're right." She sighs, heavily. But he's not answering his cell phone. I've called him like twice. And he never has it off."

I nod my head because I don't know what else to her, especially since I'm happy about the whole situation. "Maybe he's sleep..."

She glances at the time on her cell phone and curses under her breath. "I have to get down to the theater for rehearsal and crap. You coming with?"

I would love to say yes, but it's only 7 in the morning and I was planning on catching up on some sleep. "Nah, I have some things to take care of girl."

"Like what?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Just stuff," I say, getting up and tossing a few bills on the table.

"Yeah right. You're going back to the hotel aren't you," she asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Nah…" I try to lie. "Yeah. Okay. I am."

"Um hum," She smiles, "See you later then pops. Have a good nap."

As soon as I get back to the hotel and I'm about to lay down my cell rings. I'm tempted to let it ring, but it could be Jude, so I run to the living room to retrieve it before it stops ringing. Imagine my disappointment when I see Kwest's picture popping up. I answer it anyway though.

"Hello?" I ask tentatively. I'm thinking he's already seen the picture.

"Nice picture."

Damn. I'll just play dumb and deny and lie. "Huh?"

"Please T. don't take me for a fool. I thought you said you weren't going to touch the girl until she broke up with Jax. What happened? You know "self-control". I warned you…I said you wouldn't be able to handle a little one-on-one time with her didn't I? But what did you say? Let me refresh your memory: "Man, Kwest, I got this…Me and Jude are just friends." You are such a liar…"

"Hey!" I'm not a liar per se.

"Okay I agree liar is a little harsh…let's go with you're in De-Ni-AL," he laughs, "How many days were you there with her? Two? Nah not even that many was it."

I take this opportunity while he's laughing hysterically to get a few words in. "I didn't do anything man. It was just a little innocent peck on the cheek."

"Uh huh."

"Really! Look it's like a brotherly kiss."

"Man…look at the way you guys are looking at each other," he interjected. "If that's a brother/sister relationship there's something terribly wrong with that picture. Like incest."

I inhale deeply and let it out slowly.

"Look at her. She looks all floaty and carefree and you... you're just…happy. More happy than when you became VP of G-major." he continues.

I grab the magazine off the nightstand and examine it more closely. We do look…happy and coupley. "We look "floaty" because we're friggin parasailing. Have you ever been parasailing?"

"No." he sighs.

"You should. It's very invigorating."

"Stop trying to change the subject T." he snaps. "You know if you break her and Jax up she'll be pissed at you."

"Kwest. I. Did. Not. Do. Anything. She kissed me…on the cheek. It was all innocent."

"The look in your eyes isn't that innocent. The way you're wrapped around each other isn't all that innocent."

"We're harnessed together!" I interrupt.

"Whatever. I know you both too well. I know that look T. You both get it permanently stamped on your face whenever you're in the studio making music together."

I look at picture half tuning him out. It really is a good picture of us. I should get it framed.

"Tommy? Tommy!" Kwest's yelling brings me back to present."

"What?"

"Don't do anything either of you will regret man."

"We won't. I won't. It's just a picture man, nothing is going on." Yet.

"Whatever you say man…" he sighs. I can visualize him shaking his head. "I gotta go though…Sophie says hello."

"Alright talk to you later man."

"Peace."


	6. Chapter 6

"Tell me that's not Jack Johansen…" I gulp. After I hung up with Kwest earlier that morning, everyone else somehow ended up calling me as well ruining any chance of me catching some Z's. Which pretty much explains why I'm sitting here having a victory beer with Ethan after spanking his ass in a game of tennis. At least he was more of a challenge than I thought.

"Where?" Ethan asks, glancing around.

"Across the street, about to go into the jewelry store right…" I reply, slumping down in my seat.

"Oh yeah, that's him alright…" Ethan replies, nodding his head. "You want to go and holler at him?" He asked me, attempting to use some slang, but failing miserably. He's been trying to do that all day long. If he only could hear himself sounding like a moron.

"No." I say, replacing my hat and sunglasses.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Aren't you two good friends."

"No." I tolerate him because he's Jude's flavor of the month. Well past several months. "Kinda."

"Oh." Ethan replies, as though he has some clue what I'm talking about. But he doesn't have one clue.

"I wonder what he's buying," I murmur aloud. Maybe he bought Jude something and now he's returning it because he thinks she cheated on him. Or MAYBE he's buying something for his other woman. Ooh. Maybe he has another woman. Or maybe he's buying something for Jude. Thoughts and possibilities just keep rushing through my brain. I just can't take it anymore.

"You know what Ethan, I'm going to catch up with you a little later. I think I will go see what Jackson's in town for…"

"Well alright. I'll catch you later bro?"

I look at him wearily and slightly shake my head. He's killing me with his preppy slang thing he's got going on. "Um…yeah. Sure." I lie, waving good-bye to him and hurrying across the street.

"Tom! What are you doing here?" Jackson asks, awkwardly slapping hands with me.

I instantly regret just waltzing into the jewelry store without a story. I usually always have a story and a plan B…and a plan C. "Oh…I was just…you know walking and I thought I saw you. What are you doing here?" I improvise.

"I'm picking up something…" he replies leaning against the glass case.

"Oh? What is it?"

"Ah…man I can trust you right?" he asks me, whispering.

"Yeah…" I lie, leaning on the case beside him. No he can't trust me. You can't trust competition. It's unheard of. He should know this. He's in the entertainment business too.

"I'm going to propose to Jude this Sunday."

I unintentionally swallow the gum I was chewing, nearly getting choked in the process.

"Whoa, you okay man?" Jax asks, whacking my back.

"Yeah…I'm good," I answer, through teary eyes. I'm not sure if the almost tears are because of him planning to propose to Jude, or if its because of my near death experience.

He reaches in his messenger bag that he's carrying and hands me a bottle of water. "Here man, be easy." He smiled, genuinely caring. It's hard to be cold to someone when they're being so nice to you. It'd be better if he would actually hate me a little.

I take a swig of it and tighten the cap back on. "So when did you decide that you would pop the question?"

"Well, I've been thinking about since I met her." He replies, looking away bashfully. "I don't know. There's just something about Jude," he shrugs. "I felt it when I met her. And I know, I've only known her some months, it's just…I've never felt this way before. You know what I mean?"

I really hate him at this moment. I hate the way he reminds me of myself. He's so…nice. And I hate him because I can imagine he and Jude leading a happy life together. It sucks that I can imagine her with him…the house with the white picked fence, the 3 kids, and the dog: the works.

"Yeah I know what you mean man…" I sigh.

"And then this morning…when I saw you and her on the front cover of all those tabloids. It felt like my heart was being ripped out." My ears perk up a little bit, when he says this. "I don't know. I know you guys are really, really, good friends…but I just felt like I was missing out. So I decided to just take a week off from the movie set and see her kick ass at the VMA's." he smiles, and he has "the look" on his face too. You know the look. The "love sick" look. The I-found-the-love-of-my-life look.

I swallow down vomit, and roll my eyes when he's not looking my way. "So when are you going to pop the question?" I ask. It's really the only thing I want to hear about. I don't want to hear about how much he loves her.

"I'm thinking Sunday. My agent's already got MTV involved. You know how she's supposed to be presenting that award with Avril?" he pauses, waiting for me to answer. "We were thinking about just scrapping that whole thing, and surprising her with me proposing there."

"Nationally?" I question, raising my eyebrows.

"What you don't think that's a good idea?" he asks, frowning.

"Oh no, she'll love that…" Its kind of the coward way if you ask me. I mean, what woman is going to say no in front of 30 million viewers? Okay, I'm going to acknowledge that I'm hating on him right now. Jude will love it. She'll fall in love with him all over again. Actually I think she'd like anything as long as it wasn't something corny…like proposing at the top of the Eiffel Tower…

"You sure?" he asks. "I was thinking somewhere more romantic…like Paris."

I shake my hand, trying to conceal the grin on my face. The friggin Eiffel Tower? He and Jude are like oil and water. Paris? Give me a break. "Nah man. She'd love being proposed to on stage."

"Good," he grins, relief washing over him.

A stout little man comes towards holding a box out for Jax. "Ah thanks for doing to this on such short notice Leonardo." Jax smiles, shaking Leo's hand. He opens the box and looks at the ring. A smile creeps across his face. "You think she'll like it?" he asks, holding the box out to me.

I take it out of the box and look at it close up and ask for Leo's eyepiece. It's a pretty ring…but I don't think it's for Jude. It's a little too extravagant and gaudy. It has 3 stones, the band's silver, and it's a little too traditional; not special enough.

"It's a beautiful ring." And it is. But Jude likes gold and she doesn't like diamonds too much. It's to cliché.

"I helped design it…" Jax put in.

I nod my head, and continue looking at it. It has an imperfection in the third stone, but besides from that it's all right. But like I said, it's not a ring for Jude.

"I think she'll like it," I nod, putting it back in the box and handing it to him. I didn't exactly lie. I'm sure she'll learn to love it… after a few years.

"Man you don't know how relieved I am…" he sighed.

Just then my cell vibrated in my pocket I flipped it out, a picture of Jude and me flashed. I glance at Jax's reaction, but he just has a curious look on his face. I shrug.

"Hey…remember not to mention I'm here." He reminds me. I nod.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Hey Quincy…come meet me for lunch."

"Damn girl. You could ask," I whisper, gesturing to Jax to hold up, while I walk outside to continue the conversation.

"Like you have anything better to do..."

Ha. I could be milking information out of your boyfriend. If only I could say that. "I'm out with some people right now."

"Come on Quincy. Please…I need to vent, before I go flip out on these people here," she whispers, conspirator-like.

"Why what's going on?" I ask bemused.

"Um…they want me and Avril to feed the feud that the tabloids already have going on. But she and I are trying to petition that. It's so mental…I actually like the girl. We're thinking about collaborating on a record. Think that can be arranged?"

"Maybe."

"Awesome."

"Okay where you taking me out to?" I ask her.

"I don't know, I'll meet you back at the hotel in an hour though. I got to get back to the boardroom."

"See ya later girl," I reply, hanging up. I'm smiling ear to ear because I didn't tell hee anything yet. Yet. I can keep this from her for the next 2 days. I look up to see Jax staring at me. "What?" I ask.

"Ah nothing, I was just about to head back to my hotel."

I nod. "I'll see you later then." I wave, turning on my heel and walking towards my car.

"Hey. Tommy. Wait up a second."

I turn back around. "Yeah?"

"I know this is a probably a stupid question, but you and Jude don't have a…"thing" going on do you?"

I admit. I hesitate before answering this question. "Nah…man we don't have a "thing" going on." I say, turning my back towards him.

"I know man. I just had to make sure though. She assured me you didn't. I hate it when the tabloids cloud my judgment. You know how it is."

"Yeah man. It's all good." I assure him.

So I'm sitting here in my hotel room waiting for Jude to hurry up and get ready so we can go out to lunch. She said she'd be ready in about 20 minutes, but that's 30 to 35 minutes in Jude time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Here's a short Jommy fluff/filler chapter. Thanks again to some of my most favorite people in the world RockerChick13, KayKay2007, LuvTommy56, Erin McKinley, intheclosetromantic for reading AND reviewing for the last chapter.**

There's a knock at my door and I get up to see Jude standing there in a friggin towel. Imagine all of the emotions surging through me at this point.

"Hey now. You're not going out like that are you?" I ask, checking her out.

She rolls eyes, and puts her hand on her forehead, while maneuvering the towel with the other hand. "There is a huge ass flying insect in my room."

"So…" I smiled.

"Come kill it," she groans. "Please?" she adds.

I roll my eyes at her. "Step aside girl."

"Shut up…" she moans, walking behind me, back to her room.

I walk into her room with her right up under my armpit practically.

"It's in the bedroom…well it was." she mutters.

I walk in cockily and open the doors that lead to the balcony. I look around cautiously not seeing anything. I glance at Jude, who's standing in the doorframe.

"You don't see it?"

"Uh no. What is anyway? A little bee?" I ask, patronizingly.

She rolls her eyes, and cautiously enters the room. She scoops her clothes off the bed. "I tell you what. I'm going to go ahead and get dressed in the living room and you go ahead keep looking."

When she lifts her clothes off the bed a huge ass flying something flies straight toward me. Jude drops her clothes back down and jets out of the room as quickly as possible, me at her heels.

I shut the door behind us. "Whew," I exhale laughing nervously.

"Tell me about it." Jude laughs, sitting on the ottoman in the corner. I sit on the coffee in front of her. She looks at me incredulously and crosses her legs.

"What?" I shrug at her.

"You aren't going to go kill it?" she asks. "It's okay if you're scared…I can call the front desk or something," she says, condescendingly.

"Pshh, girl I got it," I wave at her, but not moving.

"No really Tommy. I can call the front desk. It won't be a problem." She says, getting up.

I acknowledge that she's trying to use some reverse psychology/Jedi mind trick thing to get me to do what she wants. But my male ego won't let me do the sensible thing. "Nah girl I got it." I assure her, getting up and entering her room again cautiously. I stick my head in first and seen it resting on the wall on the far side of the room.

I pick up one of her abandoned sandals and walked over to it.

"You don't have to do it on the wall do you?" Jude whispers, picking up her clothes again.

I glance at her disbelievingly.

She's not seriously worried about a little splat on the wall…I shake my head at her. And whack it one good time and it falls to the floor.

"Motherf" I bite out in pain. The little sucker stung my ankle.

"Oh. My. God." Jude gasped, running over to me.

"You're not allergic are you?"

"I'm not sure…" I moan.

"Oh come on," she says, grabbing me by the hand, and leading me to the bathroom. "Sit down." She commands, pointing to the toilet. I have a seat and examine the damage to my ankle. It's not the bad actually, just a little tingly right now.

I glance at Jude out the corner of my eye. She's rummaging through drawers and finds her tweezers. It's kind of entertaining to watch her, her trying to keep that towel up I mean.

She kneels down in front of me giving me a millisecond view of most everything. She takes the tweezers and pulls out the stinger. I grunt. My friggin ankle hurts more without the stinger in.

"What?" she asks, looking at me with concern.

"Nothing. I'm good," I assure her.

"I should have called somebody from downstairs," she sighs, shaking her hand.

I nod slightly, watching her pour rubbing alcohol on the sting. "Aren't you supposed to put butter or something on it?"

She gaps at me, as if to say are you serious.

"What?" I ask.

"No you put butter on a burn," she responds, sarcastically.

"Really?" I ask, dumbly.

She just looks at me again until she notices that I'm teasing. She slaps my leg playfully almost losing her towel again.

"How does that feel?"

"Tingly?"

"Burning any?"

"Nah not really. More like itching."

"I'll be right back. Don't move." She says, patting my leg.

It's weird her going all… maternal on me. She doesn't show this side very often. I snap out of my thoughts when she comes back into the room with actual clothes on and a tube of toothpaste. She tosses the Crest to me. I look at her confused as hell.

"Put it on the sting," she explains, putting lotion on her arms.

"Who makes this stuff up?" I wonder aloud.

"I don't know. I've also heard honey works though."

"Calamine lotion…" I add.

"Meat tenderizer."

"That's for jellyfish stings," I correct.

"Oh yeah…" she shrugs. "Put that on there. You want me to do it."

"Yeah…" I say, taking advantage of her sympathy.

She chuckles, kneeling down at my feet again. "You're such a baby. You think you need some Tylenol?"

"Yeah…"

She finishes up fixing up my sting and rummages through her purse for Tylenol. "I only have Tylenol PM," she warns me.

"Nighttime medicine never puts me to sleep…" I tell her. "Thank you."

"You still feel like going out? Because we could do room service and a movie maybe," she offers, from the living room. She comes back into the bathroom and hands me a bottle of water.

"Room service is sounding good actually." I reply, standing up, and limping out of the bathroom. It doesn't really hurt to walk on it, nor do I need to limp. But again with the sympathy points there.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: LOL—a lot of people were like "Do you really put butter on a burn?" You do NOT put butter on burns. Not ever, ever, ever. That is an old myth that old southern people use. It will exacerbatethe burn and cause extreme infection and may even call for amputation of the burned area. Okay, I'm exaggerating a little now, but you get my drift. **

**Thanks to: TommyQLovr, LuvTommy56, Erin McKinley, an addict, melodie568, KayKay2007, and bookworm0408 for keeping me highly entertained with their comments/reviews/predictions. **

* * *

I wake up in Jude's bed…but not exactly how I imagined it. She's not there for one thing. And another I'm fully dressed, except for my shoes. I glance at the digital clock on the nightstand and it's nearly 7:30 p.m. I got up my ankle feeling like it was still asleep. 

I limp to the living room looking for Jude, but I find a Domino's pizza box with a note on the top. I check out the pizza--Peppers, pineapples, and pepperoni. Now the girl knows I hate pineapple on my pizza. Me? I'm a meat lover all the way. And she knows this. After I kill her bee and get stung to death...I get pineapples. Anyway, I read the note.

"_I thought you said Tylenol PM's didn't knock you out? Ha. You lied to me. I'm off to the rehearsal. Shay flew in earlier…Chelsea invited us to dinner out with everyone 8:30, dressy casual…so hopefully them PM's will have worn off on you by then. I love you. -----Jude."_

Note that she took the time to write out "I love you". It was no quick "luv ya" or "ly" or any of that. This means something here. Trust me. After I fully analyze her letter—from the Tommy to the Jude—I grab a couple of depineappled slices and head back to my hotel room to hurry up get ready. And of course when I check my phone I have like 200 some messages. Well you know not that much…but enough to make me feel loved…as I'm listening to voicemails, one from Jamie definitely surprises me. Apparently he and Kat are going to "surprise Jude" and fly down here Sunday night.

What is up with everyone wanting to surprise Jude these days? Jude doesn't even like surprises that much…she likes to be in control of the situation—frankly she's a control-freak. I have no idea where she picked that up from either. I'm trying to get her out of the mode. I think she's trying to use her bossiness as a coping mechanism. Nah I don't know…I heard that on Dr. Phil though.

After I get through listening to all of my messages, like on cue, Jude calls me.

"Hey. You're up?" she whispers.

"Yeah." I whisper back.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"Fine." I sigh.

"You know I really am sorry about that…"

"Yeah I know, I know," I reply, leaning back on the couch putting my feet on the coffee table.

"I really am." She whispers.

"Okay. I believe you." I laugh. "Why are you whispering?"

"I'm hiding in the bathroom…" she responds. "Don't ask."

"What they want you to make out with Avril on stage?" I joke.

"How'd you know?" she gasps. "Nah…I'm just kidding. That was tossed on the table a couple weeks ago. We decided on just presenting the stupid award with the least amount of drama."

"You know the kiss would increase ratings…" I comment.

"Quincy, you're perverted," she laughs.

"But you know you love me," I say matter-of-factly.

"I suppose," she laughs. "But you want me to pick you up?"

"Jude…I'm not driving with you anymore girl,"

"Tommy. Shut up, my driving is not that bad." She whines.

"Jude. I assure you it is girl. We need to get you some lessons."

"Whatever," she laughs. "I'll meet you at the hotel then. Dinner is at some dinner/concert auction thing. Bring your wallet."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah." I moan.

"Yeah I know…I tried to get out of it myself…but you know Chelsea. She's like Puss-in-Boots off of Shrek."

I'm nearly on the floor with this Puss-in-Boots comparison. It fits well though. Chelsea could definitely sell talk her way in and out of anything. I hear someone calling Jude's name in the background…and her cursing softly under her breath.

"Ah. I'll see you later," Jude sighs.

"Later."

* * *

"So most of you think you're here for a charity," Shay smiles at us. 

There are about a hundred some people in the reception hall at the Hilton. Shay's on the soapbox, looking kind of nervous which is extremely out of character. Jude is sitting beside me along with Georgia and Darius at a long, rectangular table. The rest of the hall is filled with about a hundred other vaguely familiar faces. Jude raises her eyebrow at me questioningly. I shrug, and continue to watch Shay stumble through his little speech.

"I wanted to get you all together to tell you that I…and Marissa," he grins, pulling a young lady sitting at a table near him to her feet. "Are getting married…you know before you hear it from the tabloids." He laughs, nervously.

The crowd erupts into the Ooh's and Ahh's and applause, and crying in Chelsea's case. Jude looks back at me her mouth gaped open. "He is not serious."

"I think he is…" I muse, looking at him kiss his fiancé. She seems nice, kind of young. I can't really tell what race she is…I can say she's very beautiful. She has a bright smile that actually looks genuine unlike most of the girls he has on his arm…it's not at all false or fake like the Barbies he usually goes out with…not that I can talk.

Jude shakes her head slowly and takes a sip of her wine. She has a perplexed look on her face. She looks back to Shay and Marissa being hugged by Chelsea and Ethan and apparently Marissa's parents.

I stare at her swallowing her wine, wondering why she's so…unhinged? Nah, surprise is the word I think. "What?" she asks, looking at me over the rim of her glass.

"Nothing," I shrug, tossing my hands up, and leaning back in my chair.

"He owes me 500 dollars," she says, casually.

"Say what?" I ask, draping my arm on the back of her seat and leaning in closer to her to make sure I heard her right

"He bet me that I'd get married before him…" she smirks, reminiscently. "I bet him he would."

I raise an eyebrow at her, but I say nothing.

"What?" she snaps.

"Nothing…" I say, shaking my head. She's a little too touchy over the whole issue if you ask me. I know her and Shay are kind of close now, but damn.

"He could have told me a little sooner," she shrugged.

I cannot believe that's why she's so agitated. She found out at the same time his mother did. I think that makes her and me for the matter pretty important in his life.

Everyone settles back down and Shay and Marissa share how he proposed to her--in Paris…at the Eiffel Tower, when Jude and I hear this and we try so hard not to laugh aloud, but Jude nearly chokes on her fettuccini.

"Sorry," she mumbles, trying to hide her smile. "I'm good." She waves as the waiter offers her more water and Georgia and I pat her on the back.

Shay and Marissa look at her bemused and continue telling us about how their engagement came about. They have the whole fairytale thing going. She was a "Shay Girl". He wanted to get with her, and she turned him down over and over again until he swept off her feet.

After we finish eating, Shay does gentleman thing to do and leads her to the dance floor. I must admit…they'd make somecute kids. The most important thing is she made him grow up. Reminds me of Jude and me…except I haven't exactly swept her off her feet yet. Ha. I haven't even been on an official date with her.

Chelsea and Ethan get up to dance, followed by Georgia dragging Darius to the floor and even Stephanie, apparently finding someone more appealing than an ex-boybander, ends up on the dance floor. After a while the table is cleared except for Myles and some other videogame playing little boy are at the table.

I'm trying to decide on rather to ask Jude, but I glance down at her shoes, some high heel non-dancing type shoe. If I ask her, I'd just be surrendering my toes.

Right in the middle of my decision, she sighs and stands up and grabs my hand, "Come on, Quincy and dance with me."

"Nah," I reply. You see even guys play hard to get.

She scoffs at me and pulls me to my feet. "You know I don't take no for an answer from you." She smiles.

I look at her and sigh. I wish she didn't know that I can't say no to her. But I just don't want her to be disappointed over me. Which is precisely one of the main reasons I haven't gotten up the nerve to ask her out yet.

"Since when did you learn how to dance," I muse, after I get through a minute of dancing with her no bruises or crushed toes or anything. I'm impressed.

"Jax taught me…" Jude shrugs.

Oh great. Jax again. "The man has a lot of patience…"

"Yeah he does," she nodded, instantly smiling at the mention of him. Maybe she does love him. Maybe I am too late. What if I am? And she's yes to him Sunday…

I twirl her out, and bring her closer to me.

"You still got it pops," she laughs, gently squeezing my hand.

"Girl, I never lost it," I smile, dipping her down.

"Apparently…" she beams.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Again I must thank KayKay2007, melodie568, bookworm0408, and an addict for reading and reviewing. And this time let me thank everyone who faved me or subscribed to alerts. **

**WHOA! CAUTION: FLUFF AHEAD**

* * *

I'm riding home with Jude, who's almost comatose from all the wine at the party. 

"You think he loves her?" she asks, randomly. She's got her heels kicked off and her feet on the dash. Usually I would say something about this…but like I've said before it's not my car.

"I think so, couldn't you tell?" I ask her.

"Yeah…it's weird though," she yawns, shifting in the seat. "Shay's like the Hugh Hefner of Canada….and he's getting married before me? That's insane…"

I chuckle a little to myself, sounds like she's jealous to me.

"Are you really ready to get married?"

"If the right person asked me," she slurred.

Interesting answer.

"You think Jax is the right person?" I ask her, boldly. Thank God the alcohol is getting to her, and she not really thinking about what she's saying…she's not thinking about putting up a block on me, or joking off my questions.

"I was thinking about that all night…" she muses. I glance over at her relaxing in the passenger's seat, her hair blowing in the wind. She looks…beautiful. Like always. "I don't know about Jax. He's sweet…he's fun to be around…but I don't know if we have that "it" factor you know…And we hardly ever get to see each other, but that kinda leaves me wanting more."

I nod my head, even though she can't see me. "I get what you were saying…"

"Yeah, you're like the only person, who ever gets what I'm saying," she sighs.

I smile to myself. It just feels so right between us right now. I laugh, nervously. What can I say to that? "I know"…nah that'd come out sounding too cocky.

"I'm serious Quincy," she says, leaning over to kiss my cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Me either girl," I whisper.

After a while of silence, I glance over at her, and she's sleeping,

I finally exhale and sadness just creeps over me all of a sudden. I don't know, I just start thinking about the whole situation with Jude. I really don't want to be the "other man". I know she's with Jax; she's happy with Jax. I shouldn't just go and mess with her head and confuse the hell out of her. But if I don't tell her….I know I will regret it.

As I pull into the parking lot of our hotel I throw the keys to the valet, and go around to the other side of the car, and wake up Jude, apparently she's a little tipsier than I thought.

"What time is," she asks, letting me lead her through the lobby to the elevator.

"1:45." I answer pushing the up arrow.

She laughs, giddily, "I'm never going to be able to get up in to get to rehearsal," she slurs.

"I'm sure you can hot shower, coffee, some aspirin you'll be good to go," I assure her, gently pushing her into the elevator. She stands right near the glass, and it kind of freaks me out, even though the glass is probably about 4 inches wide. I don't do heights.

As we stumble together down the hall I ask her for her key card.

"It's in my purse," she says, sleepily, leaning against the wall for support.

I glance around her looking for the small handbag that she was carrying. "Where's your purse…"

"Good question…" she smiles, lazily, sliding down to the floor. "Probably, in the car,"

I sigh and look at her, sitting on the floor with her eyes shut. She's got a happy, content look on her face. I pull her to her feet and walk down the hall to my room.

"You trying to seduce me now Quincy right?" she asks, her eyes still closed.

My face is burning up with that question. She leans on me as I fumble through my wallet looking for my own key. "Uh no…" I stutter, silently thanking a higher power that she probably won't remember any of this in the morning.

I gently push her into my room, where she promptly drops her heels and her shrug. "You should be lucky you don't have to wear heels. I don't even see why I wear them…" she says, stumbling towards the couch.

"Okay…" I reply, laughing at her frankness.

"Really I don't see why men find them all that attractive…" she mumbles. "I mean…come on high heels are weapons…what does stiletto mean anyway? 'A thin bladed knife.'"

"You can't run in them though," I remind her, sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

"True, but that doesn't matter because I can take it off and beat the hell out of someone with it."

I laugh, and reach for one of her feet, and I begin to gently massage it for her.

She looks at me quizzically.

"What?"

"You can do this," she replies, pointing to me massaging her foot, "And this is the first time in the 6 years that you have known me that you have?"

I laugh at her. "I wouldn't want you to get too used to it…"

"Too late." She smiles, leaning back against the couch and placing her other foot in my lap. "I must admit amigo you have skills. You should already be married."

"That's what I was thinking," I laugh to myself.

I spend the next 15 minutes massaging her feet until she's in a blissful stupor. I tickle her foot wake her up. She promptly takes her feet out of my lap and opens her eyes. "Gracias senor."

"Your welcome." I smile, heading to my bedroom.

"Where you going?" she calls after me.

"No where," I shrug; I hear her getting off the couch and following me. I take the opportunity to take a leak in the bathroom. When I come back out she's out on the balcony.

She's sitting on the banister freaking the hell out of me. She's basically drunk, sitting on a banister on the 18th floor.

I stand at the doorframe and look her. "Um Jude, why don't you have a seat…on a chair."

She shrugs and actually takes my advice. "Come sit with me, I love this view," She turns and looks at me and pats the seat beside her.

"Nah I'm good in here," I'm not into the heights.

"Ah look at that moon," she breathes apparently in awe. She looks so innocent…it's weird. I'm pretty sure she's not. But her just looking at the moon like it's the first time she's ever seen it…that's pretty sexy.

I stand there looking at her for several minutes until she begins to doze off.

"Jude?"

"Um…"

"Come on, girl," I say stepping a few feet onto the balcony to pull her inside with me.

"I am so…" she mumbles.

"Tired," I ask trying to help her out.

"Yeah," she says, flopping on my bed.

I slip off my shoes, and unbutton my dress shirt.

"Jude do you want a shirt?" I turn towards her when I get no answer. She appears to be sleeping. I turn off the overhead light and lay on the bed beside her, making sure there's about 2 feet between us. I turn off the lamp on the nightstand too.

I'm almost asleep when I feel Jude shifting over towards me, crossing over into my personal space. She puts her head on my shoulder and I reluctantly wrap my arms around her waist. I feel her snuggle even closer to me, seeking physical warmth. I run my hands up and down her arms, trying to make her warmer.

"You cold?" I ask her.

"Not anymore," she whispers.

I feel a smile spreading across my face. Positioned with Jude lying in my arms like this…everything (problems, fears, expectations, etc.) just fade away and I focus on the present. Which just so happens to be her and me. I can feel her smiling as I softly caress her cheeks with my fingertips.

After a while, I feel her breathing become more rhythmic and steady, so I figure she's finally asleep. I fight sleep as long as possible, but I begin to feel its drug-like pull.


	10. Chapter 10

**Oooh I just majorly screwed up---that's what happens when you're up at like 2 in the am trying to update. This chapter was supposed to go before that last chapter. :( Sorry that I probably just messed all of you up. **

**There's only like 3 or 4 more prewritten chapters of this and then you'll be officially caught up with everyone else...I'll try to get the chapters out kind of quick-like since people like: Adrienne, Erin McKinley, Tommy4eva, RockerChick13, LittleZurawski, melodie568, and bookworm0408 keep leaving me wonderful feedback. Greatly appreciated. :)**

* * *

As the sun rises, Jude and I wake up almost simultaneously. She buries her face into my side, trying to escape the sunlight. 

"Don't you want to close those blinds Quincy?" she mumbles.

"No. Not really," I yawn, shielding my own face with my arm. "Why don't you?"

"I would but I don't want to," she says, as if that's explanation enough.

I lift my arm and look down at her. She's got her little smirk on her face. "I don't want to either. And anyway you're closer to them."

"Please," she asks, placing a smile on her face sweeter than Angel's Food cake.

"Uh-uh. Not happening. Nice try though."

She rolls her eyes, and gets up to close the blinds, and draws the curtains while she's at it.

"Wait a minute. Why am I in your room?" Her feelings of bewilderment, excitement, and anxiety are all etched across her face. I might as well take this opportunity and mess with her head.

"What you don't remember," I ask. "You weren't that drunk."

"What," she exclaims.

"Well I remember, it was fun, we should definitely do it again sometime…" I nod, looking at her with bedroom eyes.

"Tell me we didn't do anything," she groans, in disbelief.

"We didn't do anything," I say.

She looks at me to see a smile playing at my lips and promptly punches me, on the arm.

"Oww," I grunt out through my laughter. Damn those kickboxing classes. "That hurt girl."

"That was the point," she smiles evilly. I pull her onto the bed, so that she's sitting at the edge. "You're an asshole." She states, as if it's a new revelation.

"I've been called worse. But come on now, on top of the fact that we're both fully dressed, you should know me well enough to know that I would never take advantage of you like that."

"I know," she rolls her eyes, "But you know shit happens."

I nod my head in agreement. I could write a whole book on that subject.

"And if we had done anything…I think you'd remember, drunk or not." I smirk, earning myself another punch on the arm. What can I say; I'm a sucker for a punishment.

"Quincy you NEVER take me seriously," she says, narrowing her eyes at me.

How can I take her seriously when she tries to get all angry on me? Every time she screams at me I just want to kiss her, and oh man when she puts her hands on me. I think it's that little wrinkle over her nose, when she's just seriously peeved…it's not my fault she looks so damn sexy when she's mad though.

"I'm sorry," I grab her hand and hold it for a while, tracing her heart line over and over again. "I could give you another foot massage…"

"I'll take a rain check," she smiles, sadly, removing her hand from mine. She looks at me thoughtfully for a couple seconds.

"What are you thinking about?" I finally ask her.

"You're still an asshole," she says, standing up, and glancing at the time on the digital clock. "It's almost 7. I have to get going." She sighs, making no attempt to leave.

Damn. "Okay." I sigh, closing my eyes.

"You're going back to sleep?" she asks.

"Yup. That was the plan." I sigh, sleepily.

"That's not even fair," she yawns.

"I know, I know." I say, semi-sleep. "You could just lay back down for a few more minutes," I offer.

"Yeah right," she says, throwing a pillow at me as she leaves the room. "You need to get up."

"Not happening," I repeat in a singsong tone.

* * *

I wake again with a startle. I look around the room, I'm thinking something's missing, but I remember Jude left a few hours ago. I glance at the clock; it's a little after 2 p.m. Then I hear another knock at the door. I get up drowsily and answer it. Imagine my surprise to see Mr. Johansen standing outside of my door. 

"Hey man, what's up?" I ask, rubbing the sleep out of eyes.

"Nothing much man, you busy? Yeah I usually call before I just drop over you know--"

"Nah, you're alright come on in," I interrupt him, leaving the door open for him to come on in. "Have a seat."

I look over at him. He looks like shit, and I'm saying this from a totally unbiased perspective too. He's got bags under his eyes; he's actually wearing sweat pants. I've never seen this man in sweats before.

"What the matter?" I ask him; I can't just sit there and look at him, apparently as wreck.

"I don't know if I'm doing the right thing for one thing…" he exclaims, running his fingers through his hair. I look at him nervously. I'm really not used to guys that a barely even know having breakdowns in my hotel room.

"What happened," I ask, cautiously.

He looks up at me, and leans back on the couch. I slowly sit down on the loveseat across from him. "I've only know Jude for about 6 months you know."

I nod and wait for him to continue. "Do you think it's a little to soon for me to be asking her to marry me? I mean I don't want to be another celebrity divorce statistic you know?"

Damn, I could punch him the face. "Of course I know considering I am a celebrity statistic." I smile, sourly.

"Ah, I'm sorry man," he shrugs. "I forgot about your marriage. What do you think went wrong there anyway?"

Um, good question. "We thought we young and love—we should have waited a little longer. And then there's the fact that we hardly ever got see each other we me still being in Boyz! Attack."

I look at him, trying to decipher what kind of affect my words are having on him.

"You think it's to soon?" he asks me.

"You know what man? I really can't call it…" I answer sincerely, and objectively.

He nods his head. "I got everything sorted out with the producers for tomorrow.

"So you think you're going to go through with it," I ask, nonchalantly.

"Yes. I do," he nods, his nervousness replaced with determination. "I love Jude."

And with those the 3 words, he's a bigger man than I am, because I can't bring myself to say them, not yet. I just don't want to say them to her unless I'm not sure. I've been wrong when it comes to love so many times before. I just don't want be wrong any more. Especially about Jude and me, it's too much at stake if I'm wrong.

"Thanks for listening to me Tom…you have no idea how much it means to me. I usually turn to my older brother in these--" he falters, trying to look for the right word.

"Time of need," I say, trying to help him out.

He shrugs, and laughs out loud, "I was going to say breakdown, but 'time of need; sounds better."

I laugh with him. "Yeah it does. Where's your brother?"

"He's New Delhi…another mission trip," he explains. "That would be my brother trying to save the world on his own."

I nod, opting not to say anything because it's apparent his brother is a sensitive subject to him.

He brushes the subject right off his shoulders, "Let me buy you lunch or something. It's the least I could do for dropping in on you like that."

"Yeah sure, can I meet you in the lobby in a 10 minutes?"

"Sure…" he says, getting up and heading out the door. "Thanks again Tom."

"Not a problem," I assure him, patting him on the back. I shut the door. I want to kick myself, or something else.

The boy is looking up to me as his big brother figure and the only thing I can think about is discouraging him from proposing to Jude. Hell maybe he does love Jude, and if he does he deserves to have her. I can't even work up the courage to tell the girl how I feel, but he's willing to do it in front of the whole world?


	11. Chapter 11

**Again sorry for the mix up yall...make sure you read the actual chapter 10 and this would be chapter 11. Perhaps it will make more sense. Strike that it will make more sense.

* * *

**

"Alright man you ready?" I ask Jax, walking toward him. As I get closer I notice someone sitting in the chair not facing me.

"Little Tommy Q." Shay turns around, grinning at me.

No he didn't. "Hey Shay-Shay what's up," I grin, slapping hands with him and grabbing a chair to join their little male support group thing they've got going on.

"I hear Jax here's going to pop the question…" Shay whispering like it's some kind of conspiracy.

I shrug and throw my hands up in defeat. "Yup."

He's raising his eyebrow up at me. "And it's tomorrow."

I nod, nonchalantly picking on the lent on the arm of the chair I'm sitting on.

"But you've only known Jude for like a minute…" Shay comments, turning his attention back to Jax.

Two minutes tops.

"I know," he sighs, getting his lovey-dovey look. Ew. "It seems like much longer though."

I roll my eyes, when I think they're both too involved in their conversation, and sink into my chair. Shay catches my look, and raises his eyebrow at me. I shrug as if to say: "What I do?" Hell, as if I want hear his little "I'm in love" speech again. Come to think of it, of course he can say he loves Jude so easily. The little boy doesn't know what love is come to think about it. Sounds like lust to me.

"I know what you mean dawg…" Shay interrupts, nodding, glowing himself. "It's the same exact thing with Marissa and me. You never want to leave her."

"Counting the days until you get to see each other…"

"You always wonder what she's doing…" Jax put in.

"Who she's with…" Shay sighs.

"What she's wearing…" I put in, jokingly, trying to ease them off the subject they're on.

I feel sort of left out. Both of them are in love and crap. What about me? I'm the old guy who has had strong feelings for his song artist since she was 15…

"Same ole Tommy uh?' Shay laughs, standing up and stretching.

"Same ole me? What happened to you uh?" I laugh, "Getting married? Getting married early. Getting married before 30. Getting married--"

"Okay, man I got you…" Shay assures me, chuckling softly. "I'm getting married..."

"Buy why?" I shake my head. Come on now. It's really not my fault I can't fathom this…it's Shay. Getting married. He's actually getting married. Before me. I shake my head disbelievingly.

"I'm in love," he laughs, mocking Jax. "But look man, I gotta get going."

"Where you trying to slip off so soon?" Jax asks, standing up also.

"Grab something to eat man, a brother got the munchies," he laughs, patting his stomach.

"Come with Tom and me," Jax smiles.

Shay looks at me expectedly I shrug. "Why don't you come with us, Jax is paying." I shrug again, smiling angelically.

Hell the least he can do is pay. Damn. I've been listening to his scuttlebutt for the past hour. He interrupted my nap.

"Alright then, I'm in," Shay says, following Jax and me through the lobby area. "So where we eating?"

"Japanese? There's a restaurant in front of my hotel that I wanted to try," Jax recommended.

"Nah not Japanese…" Shay shook his head vehemently. "Long story."

"Seafood?" I suggest.

"Seafood's okay with me," Shay nods, climbing in the driver's seat of his SUV. "You can both ride with me, instead of waiting on the valet…"

Jax nearly bolts to the passenger's seat…what an ass wipe. I climb in the back probably for the first time since I was 12. Oh. Never mind this thing has satellite television and a DVD player back here. Okay…this is pretty nice. I lean back in the seat—it's so, so, so comfortable. I turn it to ESPN to watch some hockey. The only thing I'm missing is a beer and some Chex Mix.

"Shay man this car," I sigh, in ecstasy.

"It's not mine, it's on loan. Don't get too comfortable."

"Too late," I say in a singsong voice, slipping on the headphones.

"Tom? Are you okay man?" Shay asks. I glance around anxiously; I'm still in the backseat of his car.

I look at him, a little confused. My stomach's churning…my head's spinning…my vision's blurry.

"Tommy?" Shay calls, sounding far away.

I shake my head slowly, and I feel better for a few seconds. And then I blackout, or something like that because the next time I wake up I'm in a hospital room, my head throbbing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks to the wonderful reviewers Adrienne, Tommy4eva, bookworm0408, LittleZurawski, Duddley111, HRInuyashaFan16, riotgirllina, pixiestix16, RockerChick13, melodie568, and GiliwasCoolas always.**

* * *

"Tom? Are you okay man?" Shay asks. I glance around anxiously; I'm still in the backseat of his car. 

I look at him, a little confused. My stomach's churning…my head's spinning…my vision's blurry.

"Tommy?" Shay calls, sounding far away.

I shake my head slowly, and I feel better for a few seconds. And then I blackout, or something like that because the next time I wake up I'm in a hospital room, my head throbbing.

Shay is snoozing on the sofa in the far corner of the room and Jude is reclining in a chair beside my bed, watching an old 90's sitcom with the volume turned down low. She's grinning at some sarcastic remark the little kid has said, when she finally glances over at me.

"Hey,"

"Hey yourself," she says, quietly, sitting up in her recliner.

"Um…what happened?" I ask, warily.

"I'm not exactly sure…but let me go get the nurse or doctor is that okay?" she asks, jumping out of her chair and out the door before she waits for a 'yes' or 'no'.

This kind of puts me on edge since she just didn't tell me what the hell's the matter with me.

Jude comes back in after a few minutes with an extremely tall man in a white lab coat.

"Hi, Mr. Quincy!" he says, extending his hand to me. "I'm Dr. Winthrop."

"Nice to meet you," I reply, politely, trying to examine his teeth. I can't decide if I'm still a little woozy or if he has replaced his teeth with Dentyne white gum.

"So I'm guessing you're wondering what you doing here," he smiles, and I flinch a little bit. He slightly resembles Mr. Ed, with his extremely large teeth. He must have those dental veneers.

"Uh huh," I mutter, trying not to stare at those choppers.

"Well, we're not sure what's the matter with you either," he laughs. Oh. My. God. Please stop laughing man. I'm fearing my life here, those teeth look like they're about to come on out and eat me or something…I think they've got me on some drugs. "But you passed out and you're friend over there," he says, jutting his enormous mouth over to Shay's direction. "Brought you in a few hours ago. Apparently you blacked out, and earned yourself a little concussion."

"So right now it just looks like you're suffering from heat and exhaustion, but we'd like to keep you for another 24 hours or so…that okay?"

I nod my head, "Yeah, I'm good."

"Okay, a nurse will be in here shortly to draw some blood…" he says, walking toward the door. "And if you have any other questions just ask him."

As he exits, Jude slaps me on my hand. I look at her like she's crazy.

"You are so rude," she says, shaking her head disbelievingly.

"What?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"You were staring at his teeth the entire time," Jude points out, trying to conceal her smile.

"What? He looked like jaws…hell I was scared for my life," I chuckle, turning onto my side.

"Whatever," she sighs.

"You seen them things Jude. It's the last thing you want to see when you first wake up," I remark, causing her to launch off into a laughing fit, which only encourages me. "They look like little miniature drive-in movie screens or something."

After a few more rude analogies and bursts of laughter, Shay finally arouses from over on the sofa across the room.

"What's so funny?" he asks, sitting up and stretching.

"You're snoring problem," I explain.

"What? I don't snore," he says, offensively.

"Yeah, you do buddy."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Jude shrugs, trying to cover her smile again.

"Whatever," He says, waving us off, and checking the time on his watch. "Damn, it's almost midnight. I need to get heading back to the hotel." He mutters, standing up and walking towards my bed.

"You all right, man," he asks, genuinely worried.

I shrug. "I guess…they think its exhaustion and dehydration."

"I don't see how you haven't been doing anything for the last couple of days," Jude scoffs.

I throw her look. "Whatever."

She shrugs, and starts biting her nails. Aw, that means she's nervous and what would she be nervous about? That would be me in the hospital with an IV sticking out of my arm.

Shay looks at us, weirdly for a few seconds.

"What?" we both ask in unison.

"Nothing," he shakes his head, heading for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow at the awards."

"See you," Jude calls, waiting until after he leaves to hug me.

I hesitate before wrapping my arms around her. When I embrace her even the stench of the hospital fades away.

She finally looks up at me her eyes are moist with tears. She's not half the hard ass she thinks she is.

"You okay," I ask her, I gently, stroke her hair.

"No," she sighs, "My producer passed out today, and the doctors think it's exhaustion but they really aren't sure yet."

"Really," I nod. "Well I think your producer is and will be fine. It's probably because of low blood sugar, since he hasn't eaten anything all day really, or perhaps it's because of that sting he received yesterday while trying to kill this bee in his favorite artist's room."

"Or maybe not." She chuckles, her voice cracking.

"Okay maybe not," I shrug. "Maybe it's the old age catching up with him."

"Maybe that's it," she grins, climbing on the bed beside me. "You know this really should be me comforting you."

"Yeah it should be that way shouldn't…" I taunt, earning my self another slap on the arm.

"What is up with that?" I ask her, talking about her new abusiveness.

"Natural reaction?"

"Right…"

"My coping mechanism?"

"What are you trying to cope with?"

She sighs and rolls her eyes at me. "I'm stressed, kay?"

"So take it out on a wounded man in hospital bed…that sounds about what I would do…"

"Shut up," she laughs, snuggling closer to me, laying her head on my chest.

"I'm glad you think its funny," I tease, "I mean I don't think it's funny, since I am the victim…"

"It's not funny," she says quietly, her serious tone stripping down the playful mood we had going on.

"No, I'm just kidding. You can be the one to comfort me next time uh," I bargain, kissing her temple.

"Alright," she sighs, "I don't know what I'd do with out you…you know that right?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know girl. That's why I won't be croaking for a while," I comment trying to lighten the mood again.

"That's not funny," she whispers.

"It's 'my coping mechanism'."

She sits up in frustration. "Can't you be serious for like two seconds?"

"Yeah…but Jude, you're upset over basically nothing. I'll be out tomorrow in time to see you win your award for best female rock vocalist…and to see you and Avril scrap on stage--"

"Just stop it okay," she snaps, irritably, turning on her heel, and heading for the door. "I'm going to go see if I can scavenge up something to eat." She says, over her shoulder as she exits the room, letting the door slam behind her.

Damn. I don't know if I'm missing something or is she just overacting. I'm just going to go with the "I'm missing something" option because I usually am anyway.


	13. Chapter 13

**Man I_adore_ you all Duddley111, riotgirllina, babyf, Tommy4eva, LuvTommy56, jackjackio, bookworm0408, an addict, LittleZurawski, Erin McKinley, and melodie568 for all of the wonderful reviews. Thanks so much.**

* * *

I see my jeans over hanging over the arm of a chair in the corner. I quickly scoot to the edge of the bed, standing up carefully and pushing my IV bag and my as across the floor to get to my cell in the pocket of the jeans.

I flip through my cell looking for Shay's newest cell number; I seriously doubt this one is even in service considering he changes his number about every two weeks or so to lose track of the groupies he gives it out to.

"Hello?"

"Hey, this is Tommy," I say quietly, keeping a close eye out on the door. "Okay, so exactly happened man…"

"Well…I'm not even sure, the only thing I know, we were about to go into eat at that restaurant and the next thing I know you're blacking out."

"Jax was there right?" I can't quite decipher from my thoughts and what actually happened.

"Yeah…" he replies, "He left two minutes before Jude walked in."

"Really?" I ask, more than a little enthusiastically.

"Yup."

"So how'd she find out?"

"I called her…"

"What time did she get here?"

"Like 7 something…" he said, hesitantly. "Why do you care?"

"No reason," I reply quickly.

"Yeah right man," he laughs.

"What?"

"I know you guys got a little somethin', somethin' going on. I think the paparazzi might have gotten the right idea this time."

"What?" I repeat, dumbly.

"Stop acting like you don't know what I'm talking about. You better tell that girl before tooty fruity gets to her first."

"Tooty fruity Why tooty fruity? Never mind, you know Jude and me have a special relationship. Simply platonic."

"Ah, whatever man. Don't try to lie to me dawg. You remember you almost killed me for dating her when we we're sixteen."

"You were a horny little 16-year old though."

"So. So was she."

"No she wasn't. She was innocent—not at all ready for a little wannabe pimp."

"What?" he laughs, incredulously.

"You heard me: 'wannabe pimp'."

"What about you? If she was too innocent for me, she was definitely too innocent for you to be trying to rap to a sixteen year old…" he snickers.

"What? She told you about that?" I gasp, disbelievingly.

He erupts into laughter. "She didn't tell me anything. What you want to tell me something?"

"Um. No," I say, switching the phone from my left hand to my right hand.

"Right…you ought to be ashamed of yourself…dirty old bast-"

"Hey now! I didn't touch her while she was sixteen…" I'm lying and going to hell.

"Right. So you're saying you touched her when she was seventeen and up right?"

Not exactly…

"Pshh no. Man. Our relationship is platonic." Forty-five percent of the time it is anyway.

"Right…"

I happen to glance up and see shuffling outside my door in the hallway. "Um, I'll talk to you later man, Jude's coming back."

"Aiight, Jax said he'd stop back and see you in the morning…"

"Okay. Talk to you later," I rush, trying to wobble back over to the bed before she comes in.

There's a knock at the door and a redheaded nurse enters wearing blue drawstring pants and a t-shirt with the hospital's logo on it. "Hi," she speaks softly, like she's talking to an infant. "I'm Erika. I'm going to be on call tonight," she says, extending her hand out to me.

"Hello," I reply, looking her over briefly. She's what you would describe as cute or adorable. She's a petite, with freckles sprinkled across her face, no older than 30 something.

"Well I hear that you had a little fainting spell?" she says, as she checks my blood pressure.

"Yup…" I say. I probably look a little on the pathetic side, laying up in the bed, with some serious bed hair.

"And a mild-concussion…" she nods, looking at me with a 'poor you' expression.

"Unfortunately."

"Unfortunate indeed." She nods, again, giving me a reassuring smile. "So I hear you used to be in a boy band? Boyz! Attacks?"

"Who'd you hear that from," I ask curiously.

"Oh your friend," she answers. She tells me about how Jude was pulling out old pictures at the nurses' headquarters.

"You have to be kidding me," I roll my eyes, laughing good-naturedly.

She holds up her right hand and crosses her fingers. "Promise. It was so cute though. She was so worried about you. She was almost frantic when she first came in."

"Really now…" I muse.

"Oh yes," she nods, placing a thermometer in my ear.

"That's very, interesting…" I put in, just as Jude walks in with a whole slew of food.

"What's interesting?" she asks, placing the contents on her arm on the coffee table by the sofa.

"My temperature is exactly 37 degrees…"

Erika chuckles softly. "Actually it's 98.6 degrees…" I look at her weirdly.

"Fahrenheit," she adds, patting my arm. "Now I just need to get a few blood samples for further testing. Are either of you squeamish?"

"No, I'm good," I smile, a look passing between the two of us. You know that kind of flirty look that you usually use when you see some sexy person sitting across the room. Yeah, that kind of look.

Jude slurps loudly on her straw, interrupting the moment. "I'm good too."

"Okay I need you to take these pills and I'll be out of your hair for the rest of the night."

"Do you have to?" I ask, smiling my most charming smile.

"Well no," she smiles, blushing profusely.

I look past her as she's drawing my blood and I see Jude pretending to gag.

Ah. She's jealous. I smile sweetly at her. "What'd you bring me Jude?"

She rolls her eyes and crosses the room and hands me a sub sandwich. "Meatball."

"I love you."

"Right…" she laughs, rolling her eyes.

"I do," I sigh, waiting for Erika to finish up. She hands me a cup of some huge ass horse-like pills.

"Thank you sweetheart," I smile.

"No problem…you know its my job," she shrugs, modestly, wheeling her cart towards the door. "If you need anything else just push the red call button on your bed."

"Okay."

I glance over in Jude's direction. She's staring at me, curiously.

"What?'

She shrugs.

"You think she's cute?" she asks, suddenly.

"Yeah gotta love red-heads." I smile, unwrapping my sandwich.

"Do you really," she asks, looking at me with her eyebrow raised.

"Yup."

"I always thought you preferred blondes," she mutters.

"Well," I sigh, pretending to think about for a while. "Well yeah I like blondes too."

"You like everyone Tommy," she rolls her eyes; dabbing at the mustard she just spilt on her shirt. "Damn." She whispers, heading for the bathroom.

"Not everyone…" I call out defensively.

"Most everyone…" she says, closing the door a little.

"Not really." I murmur.


	14. Chapter 14

**After this, there's only 2 more pre-written chapters and then the updates will probably be coming less frequently...or maybe not since I'm out of school in about 2 weeks... **

**Thanks to: HRInuyashaFan16, LittleZurawski, riotgirllina, RockerChick13, Duddley111, LuvTommy56, 4everobsessed, jackjackio, an addict, and bookworm0408 for reading and reviewing. **

* * *

She came back from the bathroom after what seems like forever to me carrying the shirt she was wearing. What is she wearing you wonder? One of those little tight tanktops that can be classified as underwear. Nice.

I follow her across the room with my eyes. She flops back down on the couch and finishes her sandwich from where she left off before the mustard incident.

"What are you gawking at?" she asks, dabbing her mouth with napkin self-consciously.

"Where are my chips at?"

"You don't need chips Quincy, I was talking to one of your nurses and they said you had high cholesterol…" she trailed, eating another handful of chips.

Damn. What happen to patient confidentiality?

"So…it runs in my family," I reply, looking at her lick the barbeque spice from her thumb. "You are just going to eat them in front of me like that?"

"Sorry," she shrugs, turning to face the television. "That better?"

I can see her grin even with her back towards me.

"Girl, you better bring them chips over here," I threat.

"Or what," she tempts me, but thankfully she brings me the bag. "This stuff really isn't good for you though Quincy…"

"But it's okay for you right? You eat the same crap and fast food I do…so you probably have high cholesterol too."

She shakes her head. "No I don't. I eat my oatmeal in the morning.."

I look at her curiously. That statement seems a little random to me. "So. I drink my coffee with cream _and _sugar in the morning…"

She sighs, and sits at the foot of my bed. "Oatmeal helps reduce cholesterol." She says, matter-of-factly.

"So you have high cholesterol too."

"Did I say that," she asks, mumbling through a mouthful of potato chips.

"Ugh," I laugh, in disgust. "Nice eating manners."

My teasing causes her to promptly stick out her tongue…so of course I had to show her my "see food" too.

"Ew," she laughs, kicking her shoes off and folding her legs underneath her so that she's sitting in Indian style.

"Sure, just make yourself comfortable," I scoff, sarcastically.

"Aw. Thanks for the hospitality," she smiles, "You know this bed is kind of uncomfortable though."

"Tell me about it," I sigh, handing her bag of chips back, and adjusting my bed back so that I'm more in a reclining position than sitting up.

"Getting sleepy pops?"

"When are you leaving again," I respond, rolling my eyes.

"Um. Yeah. You must be getting sleep. You're a little fussy."

Ha! Ha! Ha! I'm the fussy one? She almost decapitated me half an hour ago, but yet I'm the fussy one. Oh well. I have to love her mood swings.

"I'm not sleepy," I lie, trying to stifle a yawn simultaneously. I'm sure that proves my case.

"Whatever you say pops."

I groan loudly, shaking my head from side to side slowly.

"Would you rather me go back to 'Lil Tommy Q'" she says, giving me an ultimatum.

I close my eyes and shake my head slowly. "I appreciate you telling the nurses about my Boyz! Attack days by the way."

"Oh you're so welcome. They got to see a clip of the "Pick up the Pieces" video on my phone too."

My eyes fly open and I look at her in horror. "That is so evil. You know that's war right?"

She shrugs. "Bring it on Pops."

"You know what? I just thought of a new nickname for you to call me…"

"What? Pops?"

"How about you just call me Big Daddy?"

She raises her eyebrow, and chuckles. "Or not. It doesn't have quite the same ring to it," she says, letting her bangs fall in her face, trying to hide her blushing. Then she suddenly becomes very interested in the empty chip bag in her hand.

"If I make this in…" she begins, balling the bag up in her hand, and pointing to the trashcan about 6 feet away. "Then I get another foot massage in the _very_ near future."

"And if you don't get it in?" I yawn.

"What do you want?" she asks, her eyes gleaming.

What do I want? Oh…there's a few interesting answers to that question. I could lie, tell the truth, or a version of the truth.

I choose to just full out lie. "If you miss then you have to stop calling me pops for 2 months."

"Um no. One day."

"One month."

"One week."

"Two weeks and I'll give you two massages…"

She sits and ponders this for a while. "Deal." She responds, holding out her hand.

I shake it, and yawn once again, struggling to keep my eyes open now. She prepares for her shot making a deal out of stretching, and 'visualizing the shot' as she puts it.

"Just shoot," I laugh.

"I'm going to, it's all a process though."

"Right," I say skeptically.

She finally shoots. "And Miss Jude Harrison scores," she says, holding her arms up in triumph like she's just one the NBA championships.

"Bravo," I mutter. It's not like I actually lost anything. Giving her a massage is definitely nothing to complain about. I mean really—I get an excuse to have my hands on her. "You want it now?" I ask.

She looks at me sharply. "Excuse me."

"Your massage." She's so perverted.

"Um…no. I think I'm going to get going now," she replies. "You're half sleep anyway."

My eyes flutter open again when I feel her slide off the bed. "Don't go yet."

"Don't fret pops, I'll be back later."

"Seems so final though," I grumble trying to keep my eyes open.

"I'll stay until you fall asleep then," she chuckles, sitting down in the recliner beside my bed.

"That's much safer for you, you know…you shouldn't be driving alone by yourself late at night," I smirk.

"Yeah and like 30 minutes from now, it'll just be later, and 2 o'clock in the morning."

"Okay, I just want you to stay." I smile, winking at her.

"I know, glad you can admit these things under your drug-induced state."

"Drugs do make you braver don't they?"

"I suppose."

I close my eyes again.

"Makes you a lot more innocent looking too…" she murmurs.

"Really?"

"Looks can be deceiving."

"I'd throw something at you right now, if I could move and if I weren't so tired."

"No you wouldn't." she laughs.

"No I probably wouldn't. I love you too much."


	15. Chapter 15

**Wow. Thanks for the quantity and the quality of the comments for the last chapter you guys. (LuvTommy56, LittleZurawski, KayKay2007, RockerChick13, an addict, riotgirllina, alexis, 4everobsessed, Saranha de Angelo, babyf, Erin McKinley, bookworm0408, jackjackio, iamthatplace, Ilovetommy, and Lillian). This fanfic is actually becoming more popular than '_Touched_', which I never thought was possible.**

**This is the last of the pre-written chapters. Well, actually it's two chapters in one, so it's a little lengthy...happy R&Ring. **

"Oh you love me?" she smirks, most of her attention still on television. "I love you too Quincy."

"No, I mean I love you."

She turns towards me giving me a quirky look before returning her focus back on the television. "Okay…like I said I love you too Quincy." I watch her swallow hard and inhale deeply. She begins to fidget nervously with the diamond-studded, heart-shaped pendant on the thin, silver chain around her neck… a sure sign of nervousness in the book of Jude.

"I don't think you're getting what I'm saying," I yawn, again, half paralyzed as I slip into that third stage of sleep.

"Bye Quincy," I hear her whisper, kissing my cheek.

* * *

"What do you mean I can't leave?" I snap. 

"In my professional opinion, I think it would be best if you stayed another night…we still need to get some test results back," Jaws replies. "If these next results come back negative you can leave later on tonight."

"There's no way I can get out, like now?" I ask exasperated.

He shakes his head 'no.' "I'm sorry sir…"

"Whatever," I sigh, eating another spoonful of oatmeal.

What I need is a second opinion. How can I miss the VMA's? How can I miss the chance to see Jude either shut Jax down completely or say yes to him asking her—you know asking her what he's supposed to ask her. Perhaps he'll chicken out…

"You can go now," I snap, dismissing Jaws from my eyesight. Damn he's already delivered the bad news he can definitely go now. I realize that's a little rude to take my aggression out on him, but he seems a likely candidate.

"Sorry sir," he blubbers, before shrinking out the door, leaving me to my oatmeal and bacon and eggs. You know hospital food really isn't that bad, especially when the nurses love you and there's nothing really wrong with you…but yet you have to stay in the hospital anyway because your doctor is Mr. Ed look-alike who probably got his doctorate from clown college anyway.

A few minutes later, when I'm starting on my pieces of toast with the jam _and_ butter (courtesy of my favorite nurse who snuck the butter in for me. I just might have found love with that woman).

"Come in," I call out, through a mouth full.

"Hey man," Jax greets me, sticking his head into the room.

"Come on in…" I say, beckoning him forward.

I must know if he's having second thoughts or anything.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, setting down a bouquet of roses beside the window with the other accumulating flowers and gifts from people.

"Pretty good," I shrug, spreading more butter on my toast. "Don't worry about me its just exhaustion and fatigue or something like that…" I reply, waving off the whole subject. "How are _you_ feeling? It's the big day…"

"I know," he exhales, taking a seat on the sofa in the corner. "I'm kind of nervous."

Well duh you moron. Of course you're 'kind of nervous'. Damn you're basically giving away the single life.

"I can see how you'd be 'kind of nervous'," I nod, angrily taking a bite of my toast. "Asking someone to marry you is a pretty big step."

"I noticed," he responds, leaning back on the couch and propping his feet up on the small coffee table. "I've weighed the pros and cons plenty of times though."

What the hell does he mean he's 'weighed the pros and cons'? Either he loves her or he doesn't. Who the hell weighs the pros and cons when he considers proposing to someone? Then again, perhaps I should try that considering I already have one failed marriage.

"It's weird. At first I was a little worried about asking her. But now my whole demeanor has changed. I'm calm. She belongs to me. I belong her to her. We belong together."

I feel that oatmeal trying to get back together in my large intestine. That is the biggest load of crap I've ever hear in my whole entire 26 years (27 if you can't the months I was still attached to the umbilical cord) of my life. The next thing he's going to say is: Jude completes me.

They belong together my ass…ha! The part that really cracks me up is the 'she belongs to me' part. He might be dating her, but her heart is _mine_.

"Right." I roll my eyes, since he's not looking my way.

"I'm just ready to get it over with, you know?" He says through a yawn. "So when are you getting dismissed?"

I chug down my orange juice and set the cup back down before answering his question. "Not today."

"What?"

"Doctor's orders," I mumble, returning to my channel hopping.

"Wow. That sucks."

No shit Sherlock.

"Yup."

"Wow. That sucks." He repeats, stupidly.

"You already said that," I say in a monotone, mentally adding _moron_ to the end of my sentence.

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

We settle into an uncomfortable silence, I get right back to my channel hopping, trying to pretend he's not even there. It's pretty easy actually, ignoring him I mean. It's better that I ignore him for a little while, than to kick ass so bad he's in the room across the hall from me. Though that would be kind of cool…he wouldn't get the chance to propose to her—today anyway. But then he would have the bed hair, 'look at me, I'm pitiful' thing going on too. That certainly wouldn't be good.

The silence is shattered when Erika comes in.

"I'm leaving now Mr. Quincy," she announces, gathering my breakfast tray.

"Ah, I wish you didn't have to go," I smile, sadly.

She rolls her eyes, apparently used to my flattery. "Right."

"Seriously…" I say, holding her hand.

"Right…" she rolls her eyes once again.

Damn. She just froze me…that hasn't happened in a while…since 4th grade actually, and that's only because she was my teacher.

Ouch. It kind of hurts getting dismissed and in front of Jax. Wow. My ego hurts.

"You cut me deep there, Erika," I say, bringing my right hand over my heart.

"Right," she says again in the same skeptical tone, before laughing.

"I'll see you tonight," I call after her.

"Right." She says again.

Jax stays and keeps me company for the next couple of hours, sharing meaningless conversation. We pretty much have nothing in common. He likes the Red Sox…I hate baseball. He doesn't watch hockey…I would have been a hockey player if I weren't into music. He likes _The View_ (wtf?); I like _Dr. Phil_.

We do have this one thing in common. Well _person_ in common. We're both in love with this one girl.

"So how do you think Jude will react when I pop the question?"

Hopefully she'll slap you across the face and turn you down. "She'll probably be speechless…and then she'll probably hit you."

"What?" he asks, shocked.

"What," I ask, playing dumb.

"What do you mean, she'll probably hit me?"

"It's her 'coping mechanism'." He's asking her to marry her and he doesn't know this?

"Oh," he laughs, nervously, leaning back into the sofa again. "You think she'll cry?"

If she loves you she will. "Nah…I don't think she will. She'll probably hyperventilate or something."

He laughs at me, but I was serious. "I can picture that."

Sure he can…he's only known her less than a year. He doesn't know anything about her. I laugh along with him though. "Me too."

My cell vibrates on the little nightstand beside my bed. I see a picture of Kwest and Sophie popping up. "You'll excuse me for a second right?" 

"Nah, I'm just going to talk to you later man, I need to get down to the theater about now anyway."

"See you." I say, waiting for him to exit before answering the phone.

"Are you okay?" he asks, without even greeting me.

"Yeah. I--"

"What's the matter with you man? Jude said something about exhaustion?" he interrupts me.

"Yeah. I--" I try again, but once again he cuts me off.

"See? You need to just tell that girl you love her—get it over with because you are making yourself sick…" he rambles.

"Kwest. Man. Calm down. Take a breath. I'm fine, they're just running some precautionary tests on me, since I haven't had a check up in a while." I say, quickly, hoping I don't get interrupted again.

"So are you getting discharged today? Are you still going to the awards? I don't think you should if you're not well."

I sigh, repeatedly listening to him go on and on about why I shouldn't go the awards.

"Are you finished?" I ask him after several minutes of his nonstop chatter.

"Yes."

"I'm not being discharged they want to keep for another 24 hours." This statement causes him to go on for another couple of minutes about how it's probably something serious.

"Kwest," I sigh, interrupting him for a change. "I'm fine man."

"You don't know that."

"I'm fine. Trust me," I promise. "Actually I lied I'm not fine. I'm missing those damn awards and that boy is all psyched about asking her the question."

"Damn now you don't even get the change to interject and ask her before him," he replies.

"How'd you know I was thinking about that?"

"I know you," he says, condescendingly.

"Yeah, yeah. What am I going to do man?"

"Are you willing to admit that you love her yet, because until then you can't do anything. Because if you can't say you love her then you must not. Sophie says: if you love someone—then you have to say it. Say it right then, because you might not get another chance…the moment will pass. And you might not get another."

Sophie sounds too smart for her own good if you ask me.

"Right," I sigh, rubbing by forehead with my free hand.

"But I wouldn't tell her tonight, if you happen to see her after the awards. Because then she'll think that you're just jealous because she and Jax have something."

"Right," I repeat, feeling entirely confused. "So when would be a good time to tell her man?"

"Um--" He begins. "I don't even know. It better be soon though."

"I kind of told her last night," I mutter.

"What?" he shouts into the phone, making me wince in pain. I kind of need my ears for me profession. I hold the phone from my ear for a few minutes. "What do you mean you kind of told her!"

"I said 'I love you Jude'."

"And…what did she say?"

"She said she loved me too."

"Am I missing something?" he asks, shouting again. "Shouldn't you be planning the wedding or something?"

"Well I was kind of drugged..."

He interrupts, abruptly. "Of course she's not going to believe anything you say if you're basically high."

"I didn't say she believed me, I just said that I told her."

"Right…" he trails off.

After a few more minutes of Jude-related conversation. There's another knock on my door. "Come on in." I say absentmindedly.

Jude walks in her arms filled with a huge ass bear as big as her and an equally huge 'Get Well' card.

I laugh out loud at the site of her struggling with getting the bear inside the doorway. "Kwest let me call you back man." I say.

"What? Jude there?"

"Uh huh."

"Oh…I see. I'll call you because your brain will probably be mush after a while."

"Whatever," I laugh, hanging up.

"You look like you're struggling girl." I smirk, watching her sumo wrestle with the bear through the door.

"You're so funny," she responds, sarcastically.

I take the opportunity to take a few photos with my phone…

She finally kicks the bear through the door and falls on top of it. I promptly burst out laughing again.

"Shut up," she growls, trying to contain her own laughter, handing me the card.

"I didn't say anything…" I say, defensively.

"Your eyes are saying it all."

I shrug and begin laughing again as I review the pictures again.

She gasps. "You did not take pictures…"

"Yeah. I did." I reply, nonchalantly.

"That is so evil."

"I know."

"See that's why I told Erika that you were gay." she responds.


	16. Chapter 16

**Okay, so now...it's the last of the pre-written chapters--we're finally caught up on the story and it's to where everyone else is at on the otherff-sites. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter (Erin McKinley, an addict, jackjackio, LuvTommy56, Tommys my 21, burninsecretskept, cecapo3610, riotgirllina, babyf, Duddley111, iamthatplace, bookworm0408, RockerChick13, and LittleZurawski) **

* * *

"What if she says yes?"

"Then you're a dumb ass."

"She could say no…"

"You'd still be a dumb ass."

"You're always so reassuring Kwest…I can't imagine what I'd ever do without you." I comment sarcastically. I'm pacing up and down my hospital room, pushing my IV bag along. The VMA's are on _another_ stupid Pepsi commercial. "I can't handle this," I sigh heavily.

"You must hate that realization," Kwest responds, non-sympathetically.

"I'm hanging up," I groan, flopping back onto the hospital bed.

"Because I'm not feeling sorry for you?"

"Not exactly," I grunt.

I should have just told her, but then she would have went to the awards, he would have asked her, and then she would have been pissed at me for telling her I loved her just because Jax was going to propose.

Kwest sighs, "You should have told her a long time ago…like 5 years ago, when you first met her."

"Um, I can't remember correctly now, but wasn't it you who informed me that I was crossing the line between producer and artist when she was 16? Wasn't it you who made a crude comparison to Mariah Carey and Tommy Mottola?"

"Who would have thought you would have actually listened to me though? Did you listen to me when I told you notto go out with Sadie?" he asks, already knowing the answer. "No. You didn't. Did you listen to me when I told you not to wear the white jumpsuit and the bandanna?"

"I really didn't have a say in that matter," I interject.

He continues, ignoring my last statement. "Did you listen to me when I told you, you couldn't handle a trip to Miami with Jude? Alone? No. You didn't."

"Hey, I'm not doing _that_ badly with the situation with Jude," I protest.

I'm not doing that bad. I've been a complete gentleman the entire time. Except when I was taking of the bee-sting thing…and picking at her when she um—seen _most_ of me, that morning in the hotel…and taking pictures of her just now when she tripped over the bear. But that was funny. And she told the nurse I was gay. That's a lot worse than me taking pictures of her wrestling a bear.

As a matter fact, I still owe her some payback points. She told the woman **I was gay**. Then again isn't that clear evidence that she still wants me? Making sure the nurse and I don't develop any—'thing' while I'm locked up in here…

"I'm definitely handling the situation with Jude."

"Oh that's why there's numerous tabloids with you guys pictures plastered across them…that's why you're apparently having emotional breakdowns…that's why you're in the hospital…"

"I'm not having breakdowns…it's _fatigue and exhaustion_."

"We both know what is…sexual frustration and lack of fuc--"

"AWARDS are back on now," I interrupt, loudly.

"Saved for now," he comments.

Damn he's just so funny now days. Just hilarious! I fume a few more seconds, but I quickly forget when the host announces Jude and Avril to the stage.

They walk out onto stage, coming from opposite directions, and meeting up simultaneously at the glass, modern-looking podium. Jude's decked out in a satin green dress that exudes sophistication and elegance. Avril dressed in a black

"Have mercy," I groan, promptly sitting down, as the camera zooms in on Jude's figure.

Kwest laughs at me. "I'm guessing those are gentlemanly thoughts…"

I shake my head in amazement. "All I know is better not come of here tonight in that dress."

Kwest chuckles, as we both focus back on the show.

"_**Nice dress Pop Princess," Avril smirks, looking Jude up and down, and rolling her eyes. **_

"_**Well. You know…I thought it was cocktail attire this year, or I would have worn my hooker boots too," Jude smiles, angelically. The crowd erupts into the ooh's--egging on the bogus catfight. **_

_**Jude and Avril let the forced laughter echo into the microphone before stopping abruptly and giving each other death stares. **_

"_**And if I would have cared that it was cocktail attire, I would have let my fairy godmother dress me too, Princess." **_

_**Jude mocks a laugh, leans on the podium, and looks into the camera. "Anyway," she sighs. "The nominees for best Rock Video are…"**_

The videos that are nominated for that category play in the background, as my insides turn inside out. I could have sworn that Jax said something about him coming in while Jude was presenting the award. Hell, maybe I have it twisted. Or perhaps—dare I say it? He chickened out.

"Dear father, who art in heaven," I whisper, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed.

"Are you praying? You should have started that a while ago. And I thought you weren't religious," Kwest says, interrupting me mid-prayer. I'd forgotten he was still on the line.

"It's not too late to find a little faith," I sigh, forcing myself to watch the television screen.

" 'Praying should be a first resource not a last resort.'" Kwest informs me.

I completely ignore him as the camera pans back on Avril and Jude at the podium.

**_Two 8 year-old girls, walk on stage and handed Jude and Avril the envelope that contained the winner's name. One of the girls in ripped jeans and a wife-beater with bright fiery-red hair and the other with mousy brown hair, ripped jeans, a band tee with a red-necktie, complete with a tiara. _**

"_**I am going to barf," Avril stated in a monotone. **_

"_**Aw, they just look up to us."**_

"_**What they need is some originality," Avril scoffed. **_

_**"And you think you're the first ever female to wear a neck-tie? That's like saying I was the first one to die my hair red." **_

_**"Well that would be lie because you're not original." **_

_**Again the crowd erupts into jeers. **_

_**"Excuse me," Jude snaps. **_

_**"Who started the whole angry/punk-rocker/chick thing? That would be me. **_

"_**Who died their hair blonde first?" Jude asked, placing her hand on her hip. "That would be me." **_

"_**I have you know, I wasn't thinking about you when I dyed my hair blonde…"**_

"_**And I wasn't thinking about you when I was going through my whole angry/punk-rocker/chick era." **_

"_**I would properly introduce you face to my fist your face," Avril smirked, as a spotlight shown down on Jax center stage. Jude's looking at Avril with a look of complete shock because of her sudden improvised lines. She's still oblivious to Jax sitting behind her on a stool, even as the crowd's volume amplifies by a few decibels. **_

"_**But that would suck for your boyfriend, you know to see you in a such a state," Avril shrugs, and nods her head in Jax's direction. **_

_**Jude looks at her curiously and before slowly turning around to see Jax, sitting on the stool center stage, looking as if he were ready to sing. Jude quickly turns back around, resting her head in her hands, hiding a look of surprise and slight embarrassment. The audience can see Jude covering her mic and whispering something to Avril, who just laughs it off.**_

"_**Jackson Johansen, ladies and gentlemen," she introduces, waving and exiting the stage, as piano music begins to play. **_

I notice the first keys of the song immediately. "He is not going to _attempt_ to sing that song," I laugh…I'm not sure out of nervousness or bewilderment or what. How can he stand there and try to sing a song live, off key, and in front of 10 million people, not to mention the actual studio audience.

"I think he is," Kwest says.

"**You are so beautiful…to me_," he sang, standing from his stool, and walking the short distance to where astounded Jude was standing. He reached for her hand and gently pulled her toward him. She reluctantly let go of the podium, and let him lead her back towards center stage, to the seat he had occupied. _**

_**He sings a few more lyrics before the curtains rise behind them and the Harlem Boys Choir drowns out his screeching. Midway though the song, the singing stops and just the instrumental part of the song is heard as Jax kneels down on one knee as the crowd seems to hold it's breath. **_

"_**Jude," he smiled, "We've loved together. Laughed together. And grown so much closer to one another over the past half a year. And I know it's a little sudden, but I've been thinking about asking you this question since the moment I laid eyes on you…." He trailed off, reaching into his pocket bringing out a small, black velvet box, opening it up and displaying to Jude. Jude promptly looks at the ring and gazes at it admiringly. **_

"She hates the ring," I smirk.

"Man, it doesn't even matter. He made a fool out of himself for her. He's in."

"Whose side are you on?"

"Will you do me the honor of marrying me?" Jax asked, looking into Jude's eyes.

Jude nods excitedly, as she and Jax stand to fully embrace each other.

**_"So that's a yes right?" Jax confirms, laughing good-naturedly_**.


	17. Chapter 17

"_**Yes, of course I would love to marry you!" **_

"Thank God I'm in a hospital already," I think before I hit the floor, trying to brace myself with my right arm. Pain shoots through my wrist as I make contact with the cool tile of the floor. Damn. Now my physical state matches like my emotional state: pained. Hurt. Bruised.

Need I go on?

A wide variety of obscenities, in English, Italian, and French seep through my lips. I'm not sure if it's from the pain in my arm or the site on the television screen as Jude and Jax do the whole frontal snogging thing and of course the camera must do the whole American Idol effect, circling around the happy flippin couple in a 360-degree angle.

Hold up. Is his hand on her ass?

It is.

No it's not; it's dangerously close there though. Oh boy…if it were…I'd have his fingers. And I don't care if they are supposedly engaged. Like that's going to last long.

Why didn't I just tell her? Why did I let some punk show me up? Why did she say yes? But then again…how could she say no? He made a complete ass out himself.

My God, how _do_ they breathe?

"TOM! TOMMY! TOMMYYYYYYYYYY!"

I glance at my phone, Kwest still on the line screaming. He must be worried, probably thinking I've collapsed again or something. I'm good though. I think I might have broken my tailbone though. I'm gathering myself up off the floor, gingerly moving my wrist around to see if it's still okay. Pain charges through out my entire arm and I let a few more curses.

A nurse rushes in gasping and screaming as she sees me sprawled all over the floor. "Oh. My. Gah. Are you okay, honey?" she asks.

Do I look okay?

Does she normally walk in seeing her patients on the floor? I somehow fight the urge to ask her about this.

Hum…at least the awards went to a commercial break. I don't think I could have handled much more of the _happy_ couple groping each other.

"Yeah, I'm just fine, just enjoying the quality of the tiling," I sigh, rolling my eyes.

I swat her away as she tries to help me up. "I'm good, thanks." I repeat again, loudly, but she insists upon helping me up.

"Kwest, sorry man, bad connection," I lie, as the nurse, helps me back onto the bed. "Let me call you back."

"Bad connection, my ass," he replies, and I can tell he's only seconds away from erupting into hysterics. "Did you like pass out again?"

"Of course not. I'm hanging up now," I sigh, pushing the end call button, and tossing onto the bed.

"How's that feel," the nurse asks, moving my fingers.

"Fine." I reply, stretching out on my back and covering my eyes with my uninjured arm.

"This," she asks, moving more fingers around.

"Fine." I reply irritably, hoping she goes away soon. "Dammit. Mother freaker!" I hiss, as she twists my hand some kind of way that immediately produces pain. I snatch my arm away from her, and look at her like she's insane.

She reaches for my arm again. "Here let me see it."

"Hell no."

"Don't be a baby."

I look at her dumbly. After I throw a few more threatening looks in her direction, I allow her examine my wrist some more just as the ceremony comes back on.

"Aren't they cute?" she asks, looking up at the screen just in time to see, Jude and Jax all couple-y in the third row of the theater.

"No," I snap, pain immediately coursing through. "What the hell! Are you flippin' deranged!"

"Ooh yeah. That's a sprain,"

"Nuh-uh," I sigh, sarcastically, cradling my arm to me.

"You're in a bad mood," she states in monotone.

A bad mood? That's putting it **_extremely_** nicely.

"I apologize." I sigh, "My head hurts."

"Did you hit your head?"

"Not today."

"Okay…would you like some aspirin?"

"Yes."

The whole bottle would be nice.**

* * *

**"What happened to your wrist man?" Shay asks, pointing to my now Ace Bandage-wound wrist.

As Erika wheels me toward the elevator (I don't even try to argue with her about my ability to walk out the hospital by myself. She's already shut me down on that: hospital procedure.), I call over my shoulder, "Erika and I had a rough night."

I'm kidding of course, but we did have a nice little chat last night about my sexual orientation. I'm not sure if she believes me or not, but whatever, her loss right?

"Yeah. Right," she chuckles, holding the door for Shay as he lugs the big ass bear inside with us.

As soon as she turns her back away from me, I scramble out of the wheel chair.

"Mr. Quincy. What are you doing?" she asks, shaking her head.

"I'm claustrophobic," I shrug, innocently.

"Whatever."

Shay, heaves the bear into the wheel chair. "No, really. What happened to your wrist?" he asks, once again.

"I told you," I smirk. "She's a little on the kinky side, into bondage thing."

"Shut up," she laughs.

Finally.

I've been working on her all night and morning.

"So you're going to call me right," I ask Erika, after all my get well gifts in Shay's SUV.

"Whatever," she sighs, waving goodbye as the elevator doors close.

"Did you two really…"

"No," I roll my eyes, looking at him incredulously.

"Just asking…" he shrugs, "It wouldn't be that farfetched for you, man."

Ouch. Is that how people really think of me…as some kind of sexaholic? I do have some kind of moral code these days. I'm getting older and more mature. Thinking of the future…sort of.

"Are you seriously carrying this thing around with you?" I ask, rolling my eyes and motioning toward the VMA in the front passenger's seat.

"Hell yeah," he replies, looking me up and down like I'm the crazy one. I chuckle and move it the backseat. I can't even say anything about that. When Boyz Attacks! won our first Canadian Music Award, I lugged that thing everywhere for a couple of months. I might have even slept with it the first night.

"Can you believe Jax actually went though with it?" He asks, after a while.

"No," I say, simply. "I'm still in shock actually."

I never thought he had the balls to go through with it completely. I thought he would have copped out. But no…

"So Jude's getting married…" he half states, half asks.

"No, she's not," I say, absentmindedly.

He throws a sideways glance my way as he stops at a red light. "Are you in denial?"

"No." I am speaking the truth here. She's may be engaged, but she's certainly not getting married—to him at least.

"They might make it man. They seemed pretty happy last--"

"She's known him for like a minute," I interrupt.

"Apparently that doesn't matter," he replies, matter-of-factly.

Oh, the things I would say if he weren't holding my life in his hands by merging onto the freeway.

"You know they went back to Jude's room last night right?"

"I don't care," I snap.

"Liar."

"Just drive man," I moan.

"Hey, I just wanted to warn you."

"I've been warned."

"So we're all going out to dinner at mom's insistence. You in?" he asks.

"No."

"Like you have a choice."

"You're right." And he is. Chelsea would never let someone turn down her invitation.

"I know."**

* * *

**Dinner was interesting to say the least. Actually…it wasn't that interesting. At the beginning it was all about me. It was like I was the hero coming back home from a battle. After my 5 minutes of having everyone fawning over me, it was on to the couples. This is the part were everything got shitty. It was Shay and Marissa. Darius and Georgia (well that's still unofficial considering they're just each others booty-calls). Chelsea and Ethan. Jude and Jackson aka 'aw, aren't they cute?'. And then…there was Tom and who? Tom and no one.

To make matters worse, some people couldn't keep they're hands off of each other. Ugh. Is it really necessary to hold hands while you eat? And feed each other?

Ugh. Disgusting.

So now we're riding back to the hotel. On the freeway. Sunroof open. Wind blowing flatteringly through her hair…

….and we had such a comfortable silence going…but like all good things, it had to come to an end.

"Can you believe I'm getting married?"

Why is everyone assuming that she's getting married? She's not getting married. She just happens to be engaged. Engaged. Engagements are called off all the time. Hell, marriages are called off all the time. No one's heard of an annulment? And then there's always divorce, but of course I would really love it to not even get that far.

"Nope, I can't believe it," I reply, staring out the window, watching cars pass by in a blur. I'm too afraid to look at the speedometer. She's at least doing 105.

"It was just so unexpected. Such a surprise, I'm hardly ever surprised like that. You want ice cream?" she asks, suddenly.

"No not--"

"Of course you do, because if you didn't want any then I would feel guilty eating in front of you after we both just got finished with dinner a while ago."

So are you wondering where loverboy is yet? Let's just say I got rid of him.

_Kidding._

It's not exactly **permanent**.

He had to catch a plane…he had to get back to filming the movie **fortunately**.

She swerves over into another lane, hazardously merging on the exit ramp.

"Are you sure you had _one_ glass of wine?" I ask her, after I make sure all my important internal organs are okay.

"Yup."

"I think I need to drive on the way back," I sigh, gently easing my grip of the seat and the door handle.

"I think you need to toughen up a little bit," she responds, caressing my face with the back of her hand, while we are stopped at a red light.

_She._

Touched.

_Me._

"What's the matter," she asks, looking at me curiously.

"N-n-nothing. I'm good."

And I'm usually such an easy liar.

She continues to look at me strangely for another second, until the light turns green.

I clear my throat uneasily, looking for a great change of subject. "So do you actually know where you're going?"

"Not exactly. Let's just see where the road takes us."

Hum…okay. I can deal with that…like Bonnie and Clyde riding out into the sunset.

I'm **pathetic.**

"Or you know until we find a decent ice-cream parlor." She says, throwing me an easy smile.

* * *

**A/N: As always thanks to thereviewers (Tommy4eva, babyf, RockerChick13, LuvTommy56, melodie568, pixiestix16, Adrienne, LittleZurawski, iamthatplace, bookworm0408, jackjackio, anedderm, an addict, Duddley111, Erin McKinley, cecapo3610, and riotgirllina) for R&Ring and encouraging me to continue. **

**Sothis wasa filler chapter, but something good (like really good) should be coming up in the next couple of chapters, which should be pretty soon since I'm finally out of school for the summer. :) **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: So I tried EXTREMELY hard to wait _at least_ 24 hours for the next update (you know to give everyone a chance to read and review for the last chapter) but I couldn't so here it is. **

**Thanks to: Erin McKinley, melodie568, LittleZurawski, cecapo3610, Adrienne, jackjackio, burninsecretskept, Alexis, anedderm, xTamarax, and pixiestix16 for reviewing the last chapter. And thanks to everyone else who faved and everything.**

* * *

Peacefully sitting on the end of a dock, listening to the car radio as we eat our ice cream, I could die a happy man at the moment. 

"Do you think I'm even ready to get married?" she asks, in between bites of cookie 'n cream ice cream. "I mean, we haven't even known each other a year yet. You think that's enough time?"

Why the hell is she asking me this? How am I supposed to keep the neutral and—and objective and passive on this subject? Of course they haven't known each other long enough! That's what I've been trying to tell everyone.

"Long engagement?" I shrug, taking another bite of my sundae thing I've got going on.

"He's thinking about a fall wedding…" she says, nonchalantly, licking her dripping cone. "4 month engagement long enough?"

"I thought you always wanted a summer wedding?" I say, setting aside my ice cream dish.

She shrugs, and absentmindedly looking at the ring on her finger. "I can do an autumn wedding."

"Even though you _want_ a summer one?"

"It doesn't matter, I can't get everything I want," she murmurs, swirling her bare feet in the water.

"Why not," I ask, solemnly.

Pshh! Why can't she get whatever the hell she wants? She's one of the few people I know who deserves every good thing that comes to her. _Everything._

She shrugs, flashing that smile of hers. The one that makes me want to attempt to buy her happiness. "Relationships are about compromise."

"Jude, it's your wedding, girl. It's your day. You have whatever _you_ want." Screw Jax, he's not the bride.

"Having a summer wedding isn't **_that_** important to me."

I throw her a knowing look. I want to laugh aloud at her poor attempt to lie to me. She's told me on numerous occasions what kind of wedding she would like…a small one…close friends and family, on the beach, slightly formal.

She turns away from my gaze, glancing down at the ring **_again._**

I know she hates it.

"So," she sighs, getting ready for a subject change. "Are you going to let me get a bite of that sundae?"

"No." I laugh, looking at her like she's crazy.

Her face falls into a frown and she looks at me menacingly. "You're supposed to be watching your cholesterol remember? And all the butter sauce on your lobster certainly met your quota for the day."

I take a slow bite, looking at her suggestively. "I had oatmeal this morning." I grin.

"Hey, hey, hey," I interject, just before she grabs for my bad wrist.

"Ooh, sorry," she says, grimacing at the thought of what could have been.

"Forgiven," I say, waving it off, handing her the ice cream.

"Thank you," she smiles, taking a bite, and handing it back to me. "So what happened to your wrist anyway?"

I fell off the bed in shock, when you said yes to that moron.

"Long story," I shake my head, waving her off.

We sit there finishing up the last of my sundae, listening to the radio.

"_**And here's an oldie but goody from Maxwell… "Whenever, wherever, whatever" for all the lovers and friends out there." **_

I sigh, standing up, holding my hand out to Jude. She looks from my outstretched hand to my eyes and back to my hand. "What?"

"Dance with me."

She laughs and looks up at me skeptically.

"Come on…" I coax, smoothly. "You know you want to,"

She rolls her eyes and takes my good hand. I help her to her feet, gently pulling her closer to me, wrapping her in my embrace as the beginning cords of the Spanish guitar float out of the car speakers, surrounding us on the dock's platform.

_Lead me on, girl, if you must _

_Take my heart and my love,_

_Take of me all that you want._

She's tense in my arms at first, but a few seconds later; she's fluid against me. Melting into me— cheek to cheek, hip to hip, chest to chest.

_And if there's a thing that you need  
I'd give you the breath that I breathe  
And if ever you yearn for the love in me_

_Whenever, wherever, whatever, baby_

As the music continues, she leans into me even more, laying her head on my chest. My breath catches in my throat for a split second, as I try to not to focus how close she is to me…how good she smells…how her sundress swishes against my legs…the smoothness of her bare back underneath the palm of my hand. I can't help but to tease the tips of her velvety hair, as I pull her deeper into our embrace.

_Wish I knew if I could  
Be the one that you would  
Love forever and a day, baby  
Oh, yeah, yeah_

And how the true the words are I think, as we slightly sway back and forth to the music. It'd be so much easier to tell her, if I could know that there would be no rejection. No one-sided thing I've got going on. If I knew, without a shadow of doubt, that she didn't love **_him_**.

_And if there's a thing that you need  
For you and your blood I will bleed  
And if ever you yearn for the love in me  
Whenever, wherever, whatever, baby_

Her hand roams the contours of my back, as I continue to fiddle with the ends of her hair. If only this song lasted a few more millenniums.

As the Spanish guitarist takes a lengthy solo, she takes the opportunity to bring the engagement back up to me. Damn. "What were you thinking when you heard the news? We're you shocked?"

"No," I reply, a little too quickly. Well, I wasn't. I knew about it days before she did. But, she probably doesn't need to know that. She pulls away from enough to look me in the eye.

I shrug slightly, "A little…" she still looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "Okay, a lot."

She smiles, and lays her head back to my chest.

"I fell off the bed," I admit, in a flat tone.

She quickly glances up at me, "Explaining the sprained wrist uh?" She laughs.

"Exactly," I murmur, into her hair.

_And if there's a thing that you need  
I'd give you the breath  
And if ever you yearn for the love in me  
Whenever, wherever, whatever, baby_

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**A/N: That's not the something good (really) good, I was talking about either.**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Thanks to: Ilovetommy, Tommys my 21, Duddley111, Judeh05, Erin McKinley, LittleZurawski, Adrienne, burninsecretskept, cecapo3610, lileigh760, 4everobsessed, andiamthatplace for reviewing the last chapter. I'm so glad that you guys enjoying.**

**And I'm aware that I'm not giving everyone time to read and review (I usually wait to update when there's about 400 hits and there's only been 102) but I want you to be able to read as so as I finish it. **

* * *

"I know, the infamous Tom Quincy isn't going to his room this early. It's barely midnight," Jude teases. 

"I'm getting old remember," I laugh, holding the elevator doors open. "You coming up?"

She shakes her head from side to side. "Nah. I think I'm going down to the beach…it'd be more fun if you with…" she smiles, before turning on her heel and walking away.

I stand there a minute, admiring the view. It's not just her ass either; it's like her whole walk. It's like her hips are speaking to me: _Tom, you better bring your ass on_ _before you miss out on something._ _Don't be a fool Tommy. Go…follow. _She doesn't normally walk like that…perhaps it's the dress? Damn, I have to love that dress.

I follow her path, finding her on the outdoor porch/patio. She leans over the railing, eyes closed, letting the breeze blow her hair around hazardously.

"You know Quincy, once I get married, we're still going to have to do this thing," she says, not even opening her eyes. How does she even know I'm there? I don't know, probably the same way I know when she's in the room.

"What 'thing' might that be Jude," I smile, walking towards her, timidly, with my hands in my pockets. As I lean, against a column of the patio, I gaze at her sadly, trying to memorize the little crinkles around her eyes, as she smiles. Committing to my memory, the curve up her lips—the arch of her eyebrow…

"You know our little chats…us hanging out. Just being Tommy and Jude."

All of a sudden, realization shocks the living hell out of me…I've _got_ to tell her.

"Jude, I need to tell you something," I whisper, looking at her solemnly.

Her eyes open as her face falls into the saddest expression you can ever imagine. "What is it?" she asks, turning towards me, shaking her bangs from her eyes.

"I'm not dying," I joke weakly. "Just sit down let me talk to you," I say, leading her by the arm to the wicker armchair beneath the ceiling fan. "How long have we known each other? 6 years?"

"Yeah about 6 years…" she nods, as I take a seat beside her.

"You and Jax are really tight aren't you?"

I cannot believe I just asked that stupid ass question. Hell, might as well bring up the weather while I'm at it.

"Yeah…we are getting married Tommy…" she responds, looking thoughtfully at the ring on her left hand.

"He should be really proud to have someone like you…" I say absentmindedly, focusing on the ugly ass ring as well.

She laughs and looks at me suspiciously. "Is that all you wanted to talk about Tommy? "

"No, no, no," I smile, uneasily. I take a deep breath and try to get to the point. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about for about the past few months. Well, actually, about the last year and it's getting heavier and heavier everyday and it's past the boiling point…and I just have to get if off my chest," I ramble, I continue though hoping she's getting the big picture.

"I have a great deal of respect for you girl…" I stutter, placing my hands on her knees, as I sit on the wicker ottoman at her feet. "I'm just…um. You know about my childhood…my dad dying when I was nine." I pause, swallowing hard, clearing the lump in my throat.

"Tom. I know," Jude smiles, warmly, grabbing my hands. "What is it?"

"Just let me finish…" I sigh, looking at her hands in mine. "Over the months that he was sick, before he died, he tried to teach me a little moral lesson everyday. The most important one was probably about the things about the golden rule. You know…"

" 'Do on to others as you want them to do on to you'," we say in unison. I glance up from our hands, and look her in the eyes.

"Yeah. That one. He was such a religious man, so he tried to go over the 10 commandments… don't steal. Don't kill. You know all the things that good parents try to instill into their children," I smile at her, she's looking at me curiously, probably wondering when I'm going to get the point. "And you know as well as anyone that I did some stupid crap as teenager, but I never committed any major crimes…I did skip class sometimes, when I was actually there…"

Jude laughs at that comment. I glance up at her quickly, her smile giving me courage to continue. "I had to wait until manhood to commit a major crime…well according the court of love, you know, if there is such a court."

I cannot believe I just said something that **corny**, and at this point I get up and start pacing. "But you know sometimes you're sort of forced into things like this, sometimes cupid can shoot his arrow so fast you can't get out the way." I say, more to myself than her. "And you can fall and it's like being in quicksand the more you wiggle or try to get a way from love the **_deeper_** you'll sink into it."

"Jude, you know I'm not that good at words, well not at words but you know talking…letting people know how **_I_** feel. Letting people in."

"Yeah, Tommy _I_ should know," she says, bluntly, a smile playing at her lips.

I nod, rolling my eyes, "But I have to tell you all of this so I can get to what I really want to say. You know _exactly_ what all the tabloids are saying…what they've been saying from the beginning…that we have a secret relationship going on. And now these last couple of months they've been saying that I'm trying to steal you away from Jax or whatever."

She scoffs quietly. "Yes Tommy, I'm aware."

"But I'd never steal anything or any person away from another person. Because I'd never want anyone to that to me…you know it goes back to the golden rule.

Jude, I've **_never_** seen anybody like you, I've never met anybody like you. I've never known any one like you." I ramble. "And some things you just can't help. These last couple of months the only peaceful sleep I've had is when you were beside me that night after you got semi-drunk after Shay's unofficial engagement party. Any other night I'm tossing and turning…I wake up in the middle of the night and I find myself thinking about you. I just can't help it.

And right now if this was the court of love, I'd be standing accused of loving you. And I'm glad it's not a real crime because if it were…" I laugh, nervously, "I'd be facing 25 to life—I'd be guilty. I'd be guilty of loving you…" I sigh, stopping my pacing and just staring out at the ocean.

"I can't help _not_ loving a woman like you," I grumble, more to myself than to her. "I know you're with Jax… I might not stand a ghost of chance compared to Jax in your eyes…but I've tried to keep quiet and ignore it. I was thinking that you were just another phase for me…and I'd **_never_** want to hurt you. But like I said, I _tried_ to ignore it…but the only thing I want to do is hold you…I just want to squeeze you tight.

But you're with Jax and it's just not right, that I'm telling you this now. I know you hate lying and cheating and all of that," I glance over my shoulder at her. She's just sitting there in the chair, her mouth slightly agape, and her hands neatly in her lap.

I turn back towards the ocean, leaning over the railing. I can't believe I actually just said all of that aloud. I thought that would be the hard part. I was wrong…that was the _easy_ part compared to waiting for her reaction.

It's deathly quiet in the room, the only sound is the waves crashing onto the beach, but I dare not turn around and look at her.

"Hell, I didn't ask to fall in love with you…I just couldn't help myself," I mutter, trying to comfort myself, to ease the rejection if it was coming.

A few more minutes of silence tick on by, feeling like a half an eon to me. I'm debating with myself to say something…but I've said all I can.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, _her_ hand on my shoulder. I quickly, glance up to see her facial expression. It's absolutely neutral. I take her hand off my shoulder and sandwich it between mine.

"Jude," I sigh, looking her in the eyes. _Just tell me what you're thinking girl. _I plead quietly.

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**A/N:So one day I was listening to the radio, and thissong was on the Oldies channel by Issac Haze...and he was rappin' (well not actually rappin', singing his heart out) to this woman (she was engaged to be married) who he just met about how much he loved her...and how he couldn't help it. Basically in Tommy's sitatution. So I jacked Issac's whole "love is a crime and I need to be on trial," metaphor. It just fit.**

I know, I ended it right there. I haven't decided how I want it to go yet though...more later probably. 


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: As always, thanks to the people who feed my comment addition (jackjackio, lileigh760, Adrienne, melodie568, Judeh05, TommyQLovr, punky19958, cecapo3610, LuvTommy56, bookworm0408, Tommy4eva, burninsecretskept, 4everobsessed, aubibi, LittleZurawski, and RockerChick13) by reviewing for the last chapter.**

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"Jude," I sigh, looking her in the eyes. _Just tell me what you're thinking girl. _I plead quietly.

She's looking at our hands mashed together. She suddenly slips her hand away from mine. She's glaring at me coldly as she takes a few feet away from me. "Tommy I don't know whether to scream or throw something…or, or," she's ranting, storming around now. "Who does this? Who comes up to someone like this hours after someone just proposed to you and tells you that they're in love with you?" she says.

I'm not sure if she's talking to herself or me. I'm going to assume that that's a rhetorical question.

"I mean really who does that?" she says, directing that to me.

Well duh Jude, **_I_** do…

"It's better now than never right?" I shrug. Or _before_ the wedding. Or **_during_** the wedding.

She apparently finds that pretty funny. She's laughing, so I laugh a little uneasily too. " 'Better now than never,'" she mocks me, bitterly.

The next thing I know she's throwing the pillows and cushions at me. "What the hell Tommy? Over the past 5 years this is the best time you could think of to tell me this? You are just **brilliant**!"

"Hey now," I interject, as a dodge a pillow cushion. "I could have said it at the church when the preacher said: Speak now or forever hold your peace." I joke.

Um…that was definitely the wrong thing to say.

She looks at me disbelievingly. "You're kidding. You have to be kidding," she laughs. She's got to stop that maniac-like laugh she's got going on.

After she paces for a few minutes, she stops in front of me, and promptly burst out laughing. "Am I being **_Punk'd_**?" she asks, her hand on her hip.

I can't help but to let out a nervous laugh. "No…"

Big mistake. She whacks me with a pillow cushion several times, and then she begins her pacing again.

"Jude, I'm sorry," I sigh. I don't know what to do anymore.

She stops in front of me again, her face softening considerably. She's closing in the space between us. I'm not sure if she's going to kill me…if she is…I can't run. She's got me cornered. "Liar," she mutters. "You are **_not_** sorry."

I shrug. "You're right, I'm not sorry, but I don't want you to be upset with me."

"Ha!" she says, moving even closer to me. "How'd did you think I'd react? Did you think I'd melt at your feet and be all "I love you too Tommy"?"

I shrug. I must admit, that's how it was going on in my head.

"That's what you thought," she asks. Then she nods, answering her own question. "_Right_?"

I nod slightly, looking down at my feet.

"Guess what Thomas," she snaps, "The world does not turn because of you. I cannot throw away a perfectly good relationship jus--"

At this point I begin to tune her out, I'm staring at her lips. She looks beautiful, in her white sundress, the sea breeze doing some wonderful things with her hair—the moonlight making her skin seem to glow.

Hell, enough is enough. I grab her by the waist, easily picking her up and sitting her on the porch railing. A look of disbelief is upon her lips as I quickly kiss her. The type of soft, sensual kiss that I'm infamous for.

After a couple of minutes, she roughly pushes me away, breathing hard. Then out of nowhere her hand comes across my face. I look at her, pissed for a minute. A slightly apologetic look crosses her face, but it disappears quickly.

"_Who_ the hell do you _think_ you are," she snaps, her voice trembling with anger.

Okay so I'm thinking that's a wrap, but the next thing I know she's throwing me against the railing, kissing me angrily. I forget the slap across my face, and focus on her hands roaming everywhere on me, finally running her fingers through my hair. I just push away all the confusion in my head and I let her do _whatever_ she wants.

I must say it's a little weird for me to be being dominated like this. I like it though, for the time being.

She bites my bottom lip, tugging gently as she snatches off my shirt leaving me bare-chested. I glanced down at the condition of my shirt…damn—in tatters. Okay, Jude, to hell with the seams, to hell with the buttons. I pause and look at her curiously.

"What?" she sighs, frustrated, "Like you don't have another one just like it…" Her fingernails raking my now bare back. As I reach for the hem of her dress, she slaps my hand away from her, breaking our kiss temporarily.

"No."

"**_No_**". What the hell does she mean _no_? I'm about to ask her, but her lips crash into mine again. So apparently it doesn't mean _no_ we can't do this. It's heating up out here, despite the light breeze.

I bravely rotate us so her back is against the column. She breaks the kiss again giving me that who-do-I-think-I-Am look again.

I ignore her this time, continuing what she started. My hand slips beneath her skirt with no objections this time. I grab her thigh and lift it so that her leg is wrapped around my waist, as we both slide down to the floor upon all of the pillows she threw there earlier.

She's in my lap _basically_; her legs are wrapped around me tight, clutching me even closer to her. It's like we can't get close _enough_ to each other.

After a few minutes, I notice her get quieter, a lot more submissive, and did I mention a lot quieter. Damn, something's off.

"Tell me what you want," I (hate to say it like this, but there's no better word to describe it) **purr**, before biting her ear.

"You know what I want," she murmurs, running her manicure across my chest.

Welp. I know what her _body_ wants.

I pull her even _closer_ to me, running her fingers through her hair, planting kisses all over her neck.

"Oh god,"

I'm pretty sure that was good _oh god_.

"Reassure me," I smirk, as I kiss down into her plunging neckline. "Tell. Me. What. You. Want."

"More of that," she succumbs, withering as I make my way down even further, reaching for the halter straps around her neck. She helps me out a little by holding up her hair.

As I'm memorizing _every inch_ of her chest—with my lips, I notice her getting quiet once again. Now, I'd think her being a singer, well vocalist, she'd be a little more _vocal_ in all of this.

Taking a break for a minute, I make her look at me. "I'm not doing anything unless you ask for it," I murmur, between kisses on her neck. She (again the only word to describe it correctly) **_whimpers_** in response.

"Oh. You can't talk now?"

"Oh god," she shudders, as I lick (and suck) just above her right ear. "That's my spot."

Yes! Jack pot! Advance to go _and_ collect $200!

"Oh you like that, do you?" I smirk.

Cocky.

Arrogant.

I know. I know. I usually work on it. What do you expect here? Testosterone is pumping…it's like I can feel the blood rushing to—well you know…below the waist.

"Yeah," she gasps, in a 'duh' tone, trembling in my arms. Ha! _Trembling_…

And then…she starts to gently grind her hips in my lap.

She's going to have to stop that.

Now.

"Oh. You like that, do you," she mocks me.

I gently guide her down onto her back, lightly raising her skirt as I go.

"Oh god," she groans.

Shit.

Not a good _oh god_. Like a hold up, wait a minute _oh god_.

Red alarms and flashing lights are going off in my head.

"Anyone could walk in on us,"

I laugh, shaking my head, standing up and pulling her up along with me.

False alarm.

I'm already finished returning pillow cushions and the toss pillows to their respective places on the wicker furniture, and she's still standing there trying to straighten out her outfit. To hell with that…that dress is just coming off anyway—just as soon as I get her upstairs that is. I pick her up and throwing her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Quincy…" she grumbles.

"Jude."

"Not that I'm not enjoying the view of your ass…but could you please put me down."

"No," I reply, matter-of-factly, sliding my hand up her thigh.

"Hey, stop that," she commands, slapping my ass.

"Stop what?" I ask, moving my hand up further.

"Quincy…" she laughs.

As I carry her through the lobby, an elderly couple is waiting to go up in the elevator as well, "Good evening," I nod, nonchalantly.

"Good evening," The old man replies, trying to look under Jude's dress without being obvious.

His wife throws me a dirty look and roll her eyes, "We'll take the stairs Bernard," she says, holding fast to his arm, as the elevator doors open.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: As always I'd like to think the people who encourage me to keep writing by leaving reviews: Tommy4eva, Duddley111, musical-cynders, burninsecretskept, Adrienne, LuvInstntStar24, LittleZurawski, Erin McKinley, cecapo3610, melodie568, bookworm0408, 4everobsessed, LuvTommy56, jackjackio, iamthatplace, and Tommys my 21.**

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I grin mischievously, setting her back on her own two feet. She tentatively takes a step back, a grin matching mine, playing at her lips. I quickly step towards, molding her hips to mine. 

I smile down at her, leaning down hovering around her mouth, not kissing her yet. I'm not doing anything, unless she wants it. She's not going to get pissed at me later, talking about I made her cheater. If she's a cheater, it was already deep down inside of her.

But then again, we shouldn't be doing this…she has a _fiancé_.

"Can't wait until we get to the room?" she asks in a snide tone. She only talks when I don't want her to…a few minutes ago I was begging her to talk and she couldn't say anything, and now she's got that sarcasm back—that attitude. Damn, that's sexy.

Cupping her face with my hand, I brush my lips across her forehead, across her cheeks, and a peck on her lips. Damn, I love this.

Jude.

Me.

Jude and me.

"Oh god!" she, um—_shouts_, just as I find that little spot slightly above her ear. I chuckle lightly at her response. It's quite hilarious finding these little spots on women. Well, not _hilarious_ really, but—interesting. Fun. I haven't even touched the prize yet and she's already screaming.

I _always_ knew she was a screamer.

I smile, wickedly as the light bulb comes on inside my head. _Why wait until we get to the room?_ Breaking away from Jude for a millisecond, I mash in the red button, you know, the one that stops the elevator. The one that's supposed to be used in the case of an emergency—

I'd count this as an _emergency_. According to rumor, Jude and Jax were doing _something_ in her hotel room last night—that room's definitely off the list of possibilities. My room is a full 35 feet further down the hall than her room—mine's out. I've never done it in an elevator before…

"Quincy," she grins, flushing even more than she already is.

Smoothly turning around, and walking over to her, my hands return to cupping her face. I pull her closer laying a kiss fully on her lips—hands sliding delicately from her face, down her neck, to her shoulders…it's like they have a mind of their own as they trace the easy curve of waist to the dip of her hips, lower to her thighs…then back up again.

I walk her backwards, pushing her gently against a wall, my hands on either side of her head.

Damn, why'd I wait _so_ long to tell her? I could have already had this…

She's all mine now…

Sort of…

_Jax_…

She was with Jax.

She is with Jax.

She was **_just_** kissing on him today…well yesterday—which was a few hours ago… I'm sure she didn't get a chance to brush her teeth yet.

Oh. Dear God…

I am kissing **_Jax_**…

I sigh, breaking away from her mid-kiss. Shaking my head I simply say her name.

"Huh," she asks, her eyes closed, lips still puckered.

"Girl, this isn't even right," I shake my head. On so many levels… "I can't do this. I can't let us do this. It's just not right."

"But it's okay," she whispers.

"No, it's _not_," I sigh, shaking my head.

But it _is_…How can it be _wrong_ when if feels this _right_?

"We're just avoiding the big ass stain in the middle of the floor Jude," I moan, plopping on the small plush bench. I run my hands through my hair, pulling at the hair follicles. Bad habit, but it feels like it's redirecting some of the pain and pressure from the inside of my head to the outside.

She shifts into a defensive stance, exhaling loudly. "Tommy…"

"What—**_who_** do you want Jude," I ask, glancing up at her.

"I want you," she says, causing me to glance up at her hopefully.

She wants me?

She wants me.

She said she wants me.

"I want him too."

Wrong Answer. Why couldn't she have just stopped while it was good? Why the hell is she going to tell me that? She wants me…but she wants him too?

I couldn't have heard that right.

"What?" I ask, disbelievingly, letting my hands fall in between my legs.

She crosses her arms over her chest, tilting her head back, trying to prevent tears from falling. "I know how Jax feels about me," she murmurs to the ceiling.

"You know how **_I_** feel about you Jude!" I fire back in a stage whisper.

Did I not just pour out my soul to her? I think I recall saying everything except for _'you complete me'_. Hell, I would have said that too if it would have got the point across.

She shakes her head at the ceiling a moment, before looking at me, pain evident in her eyes. "I know you're probably jealous," she states, her eyes boring into mine, "I know that you probably would have **never** said you loved _me_ if I wasn't with Jax. If I wasn't with someone who wanted to flippin' marry me," she cries, waving her hand around, flashing **_that_** ring around.

"Jude," I say, looking at her, shaking my head. She's wrong, I would have told her. I would have _eventually_. "That's **not** true, girl."

"Oh yeah, it is Tommy," she laughs, cynically. She wipes at her eyes angrily, and starts to pace from one side of the elevator to the other. "I'm right. I know, I'm right." She smiles, sadly, talking more to herself than me.

"You're wrong Jude," I respond, ignoring the pain in my chest I'm feeling. "You're so wrong."

"Am I not worth the risk to you?" she gasps, "Am I not worth it?" she shouts, gesturing to herself.

"Jude," I begin. I can't believe what a turn of events this is…how do we go from having a good night out—with ice-cream and dancing, to me professing my love for her, to her getting pissed, to a heavy make out session.

Now we're back to being pissed…

"Jude," I repeat. I feel so helpless, like nothing I say it's going to change the way she feels about me. Nothing. Nothing I say, nothing I do.

"Are you just a coward?" she asks, her words like little scissors cutting away at my interior. She's looking up at me for an answer, but I can't even find the sentences to explain it to her at the moment. Of course she's worth it to me…

"Apparently I'm worth it some people. Jax! I'm worth it to him, but you…you're just a coward…am I right?"

"Jude," I sigh, "You're worth everything I have…everything I want, everything I hope to have…"

"And how many girls have you used that line on Tommy?" she whispers, harshly.

Damn, that was equivalent to a slap in the face. No, that hurts worse than any physical pain she could cause me. I'd take another slap any day.

"How many?" she probes, again, viciously.

"Only you," I retort, staring her down. "Who else would I say something like that too Jude? Those other girls don't equal up to you. You know that! You're the only woman I've **_ever_** wanted this bad…"

"Sounds like lust to me, Tommy," she whispers, sardonically, turning around, and pressing the button to restart the elevator.

"No, girl," I say, shaking my head. "If it was lust, I'd be making love to you right now. I love you."

She glances away, covering her eyes with her hand. "Don't say shit like that if you don't mean it Tom."

"You know I don't say it if I don't," I counter, standing up, walking over to her.

"Don't touch me," she warns me, taking a step back.

I throw hands up in a peace gesture. "You can't marry him," I murmur.

"Yes, I can," she says, widening the space between us.

"No, you can't."

She throws a looks at me and sits down on the bench, crossing her arms over chest. "Whatever." She states, flatly.

"You say 'whatever' because deep down you know I'm right," I reply, smugly, leaning against the wall, studying her body language intently. Her arms still crossed over her chest emitting defensiveness, her ankles locked showing uneasiness. (I read sometimes okay…it gets boring on tour.)

I stop her before she retorts with some kind of smart-ass remark. "You know I'm right," I reiterate, loudly.

She shakes her head, slowly, glancing at that ring—again.

"And you hate that ring."

"No, I don't," she snaps, extremely defensive.

"Yeah, you do," I roll my eyes, waving her off. "I knew you'd hate that ring the moment I saw it."

"What?" she asks, quickly looking up at me, eyes flashing.

I never did master the art of thinking **_before_** speaking.

"You knew he was proposing?" she asks, haughtily, standing up, walking towards me.

"Jude," I sigh, at a loss for words.

She puts a hand up to silence me. "Save it!" she says, eerily calm. "Just save it." She says, pressing the button to start the elevator. I sigh, dejectedly. I honestly don't see how I'm going to smooth this one over with her this time. I just screwed up—big time. I feel like I've failed as a human being.

I can only stare at her as she presses the button…_again_? I could have swore she already did a few seconds ago. I watch as she pushes it few more times with no response from the elevator.

Ah damn.


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks to: Duddley111, cecapo3610, jackjackio, Erin McKinley, LuvTommy56, Tommy4eva, Adrienne, Trigun-VashMeryl4eva, Judeh05, amanda, bookworm0408, iamthatplace, Tommys my 21, and everyone else who helped me reach 200 REVIEWS!**

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"Okay, 30 minutes? Thanks so much." 

"30 minutes," I reiterate to Jude, after I hang up with the operator on the emergency elevator phone.

Help is on the way...30 minutes isn't _that_ long...

"Look Jude,"

"Don't talk to me and this will be _so_ much more bearable."

"Okay," I shrug nonchalantly, staring at the control panel. Maybe if I stare at it long enough, it'll just magically work again—or not.

**10 minutes later**

"That music is going to drive me crazy,"she snaps.

And we were doing so well with the silence thing.

"Are you talking to me?" I ask, feigning shock. I look around the elevator, mockingly. "Oh, you must be. I'm the only one in here."

"I'm talking to myself."

"And now you're officially going insane," I nod.

"You know what? This is your fault," she says, sitting up on the bench, waving her hand in my direction. "You're the one…who wants to stop the friggin' elevator just so…" she trails off.

"So we can have sex…" I fill-in for her.

She gapes at me a second before reclining back down on the bench. "This isn't funny," she chuckles, looking up at the ceiling. "Did I do something wrong? You can't count the thing with _him_," she says, pointing at me. "Because nothing happened, and I am **_not_** married _yet_."

"You're **not** getting married to him," I holler. Annoyed with her for trying to blame the whole thing on me, I mash in the buttons of all the floors—the elevator not responding at all.

No use.

I'm stuck.

With her.

**21 minutes later**

Things would be so much better under different circumstances. If I didn't want to kill her, if she wasn't being so disagreeable and stubborn and _dense_, and if I could actually stand her it would be _so_ great.

I sigh, and stand in a corner, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. I was doing pretty good, imagining myself in a deserted island…just me. My guitar. Until she had to go and ruin that too.

"I hate this damn music," she complains…_some more_.

"You already said that," I grunt, closing my eyes and pinching harder. "Stop being such a damn drama queen."

"Then stop being the source of my drama," she mumbled, reclining back.

"That doesn't even make sense Jude," I slide down to the floor, leaning against the wall with one leg up, one stretched out.

Wouldn't she still be a drama queen if she didn't have drama? Wouldn't she then create drama if she didn't have it?

"It does, if I say it does," she quips.

"Oh, yeah, Jude. It must be fact since you say it is," I sigh, rolling my eyes.

"Exactly…"

**37 minutes later**

"**_You said you didn't need me but you did / you said you didn't want me. But you do _"**

It's been 37 minutes since I hung up with the operator of the company who's supposed to be on call 24/7. She said it'd take 30 minutes for the elevator technician to get here…_liar, liar_.

"**_It's kinda like a comedy_"**

Now it's been 38 minutes.

"**_First you kiss me and then say we're through_"**

38 minutes and 8 seconds.

"**_I say you've got some issues, Yeah you do_"**

38 minutes and 13 seconds…

"**_Some things you gotta work through, you really do_" **

I think the walls are closing in on me…not quickly but inch by inch. And it's getting hot in here. I only wish we would have taken the side elevators—those elevators were glass. Better yet, I should have just taken the stairs.

"**_It's sorta like a talk show / No wait, a freak show when the freak is you_"**

"Jude, just shut up already," I nearly shout, but of course she only gets louder.

"**_I'm the smoke from your fire / I'm that guy you can trust / I'm a chord on your guitar / I'M THAT GIRL YOU CANNOT SHUT UP_"**

"Girl," I moan, hitting my head kind of hard against the wall. "Please be quiet." I sigh, trying to ask nicely. Perhaps I should have tried it like that before I shouted at her.

"**_I'm the blood you might need / in your car when you speed / in that cigarette you breathe / you can't get rid of me"_**

"Jude," I whine, near tears.

"I'll stop singing this song, if you give me your shirt," she sings.

I look at her like she's crazy for a few seconds and decline the bargain.

She shrugs and continues more loudly. "**_You said I wasn't funny when you laughed / you said I couldn't drive fast, then you crashed / Funny how it works out with your big mouth / You'll always get it back"_**

It's been 40 minutes…

"**_You thought you had me worked out, YOU'RE NOT DEEP / Mr. I-Screw-About / you're still a creep / At best you could've confessed that YOU'RE A BIG MESS / And that you're SO DAMN WEAK"_**

A positive thing about her singing is she's drowning out the horrid elevator music.

"_**I'm the smoke from your fire"**_

It's not so much the singing that's bothering me—god I love her voice. But she and I know that song's about me.

"**_I'm that guy you can trust / I'm a chord on your guitar"_**

It's a shame it was written 5 years ago and still describes our relationship. You'd think we would have moved a further along in all of this…

"_**I'm that girl YOU CAN'T SHUT UP"**_

Ha. Isn't that the truth?

"Okay, okay, okay," I sigh, standing up, taking off my shirt. "What do you want it for anyway? Are you planning to sew it up?" I smirk.

"I said I'd buy you another one stop bitching," she responds, taking it from me, and balling it up.

I have to laugh off that one. She said I was _bitching_…**_I'm_** the one bitching? I'm not going to even touch that one. She's being quiet and almost civil, might as well not start anything.

"You wanted to use my shirt for a pillow?" I roll my eyes laughing incredulously, sliding down, and leaning against the bench in front of her.

"Yeah," she says, lying down on her side. "You know how many people's butts have been on this thing? Do you think I'm laying my head down on it?"

**49 minutes later. **

I discreetly unwrapped my roll of Lifesavers. Ah—a red one. Perhaps big guy up there doesn't have something against me.

"I want one…" Jude said, holding her hand out. Damn, I thought she was dozing…

"Damn, girl you've got the shirt off my back already," I whine, passing her the candy.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she says."It seems like we're going to be here a while, doesn't it?"

"**_30 minutes_**," I say, mimicking the operator's voice. "30 minutes my ass."

"It **_is_** the weekend…" she yawns.

There's this thing called 24/7 service.

"I thought you were already sleeping…"

"No, I'm resting my eyes," she says, taking a green Lifesaver, and passing it back to me.

"And you claim that I'm the on who's getting old."

"I had a rough night last night _and_ a rough morning," I can feel her smiling behind me.

Ugh. I know she's talking about _him_. Why must she do that? She's must ruin the little moments when we're actually getting along by bringing _him_ up. She does that shit on purpose—I'm **_convinced_** she does it to get underneath my skin.

And of course I let her do it…

I lean my head back against her side, getting more comfortable. Well as comfortable as I can on the floor of an elevator. She starts to run her fingers through my hair.

Damn, I wish she wouldn't do that.

The whole touching thing—I can't deal.

"**_Why_** do you love him?" I ask, suddenly.

"Let's not to this _again_," she sighs, her breath, tickling the back of my neck.

"Just answer me that, and if it's a good enough answer, I won't bring it up again. I promise to back up. Hell, I'll buy you a damn a wedding gift and sit on the bride's side."

She chuckles at that and sighs once again. After a while she just simply says, "He gets me."

I get you Jude…

"We never have all this drama…"

I'd like to call it a history, Jude. You haven't even known him a year…no of course you don't have any problems—you don't know each other!

"He's always there…"

I'm here Jude.

"He's always so thoughtful."

That's because he hasn't got tired of you yet Jude. The relationship is still new. You haven't even hit that I'm-tired-of-being-around-you-all-the-time slump yet.

"He sends me flowers just because…"

Probably 'just because' he's guilty about something.

"He encourages me—he's my inspiration these days—"

Jude, you know I'm your inspiration.

"He's okay with my music career with the crazy long hours and time away from him…"

I am your music career Jude. I am your music. You spend crazy long hours with me fulfilling your—our dream.

"He just—he's just, he's just **_Jax_**."

I nod my head. It sounded good—it was all such bullshit. But it _sounded_ good and that _was_ the bargain. They're **_not_** getting married, but I'll back off for until she finally figures that out.

"So, I'll be buying the coffee maker on your bridal registry," I smile, sadly.

"I was thinking more about this teapot set from Tiffany's…" she laughs, still massaging my scalp.

"Really?" Pshhh, her ass isn't getting a damn teapot from me. "So coffee maker or toaster?"

END OF PART I 


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: This next part takes 6 months after the elevator incident…**

**Thanks to: Trigun-VashMeryl4eva, Duddley111, Tommy4eva, amanda, Tommys my 21, bookworm0408, iamthatplace, LittleZurawski, LuvTommy56, and xxecstasy for reviewing. It's truly appreciated.

* * *

**

"_I stand before this couple this day to united them in the bonds of matrimony…" The minister, an old bald guy, is saying. "If there be anyone present that may present just and lawful cause why these two individuals may not be lawfully wed, let him speak now or forever hold his peace…"_

_I look at Jax nervously and we both do a quick turn behind us, to see if anyone dares to stand up. I turn a shade paler than my dress when most of the Bride's side stands up. _

"_Holy shit," I grumble, turning around, and clamping my hand over my mouth. I did not just curse in front of a whole congregation and a minister in a church. Holy ground. _

_I turn to Jax who's looking at me bizarrely. "Did you just curse?"_

_I shake my head rapidly from side to side. Now I just lied in a church._

"_Yes, you did," he says, accusingly. _

"_I didn't mean to," I whisper._

"_I didn't know you cursed," he whispers back, curiously. _

"_Well I do in highly stressed situations like this one," I whisper, shrugging a sorry. I move closer to Jax and whisper quietly in his ear, "Are they still standing up?"_

_He turns his head slightly; rhythmically running is hands up and down my arms. "Affirmative." _

"_Holy," I start to say shit again, until he pinches me. Hard. "Sh-irit." I finish, punching him in the arm, and examining my own wound. "If that leaves a bruise, I'm going to leave a couple of bruises on you." I snap. _

_The minister clears his throat and both Jax and I look at him expectantly. _

"_What would you like to do about this?" he whispers, solemnly. _

"_We were hoping you had something planned, Paulson," Jax whispers, harshly. _

"_Sorry," Paulson shrugs, "I've been ministering 65 years and this has never occurred. _

_Man, screw this crap. This is supposed to the happiest day of my life and I have about a thousand people standing up not agreeing with my wedding? They could have told me this crap before we paid for this thing. Somebody's definitely getting up in here today._

"_Here hold this," I say, shoving my bouquet into Jax's hands._

_I turn towards the right side of the congregation, pulling my veil up so I can actually see. "All of you sit your booties down in those pews right now," I say, sharply, about half of them sat down. "I mean now!" I shout, stomping my foot for emphasis, the rest of them sat down…except for mom, dad, and Jamie tried to sit down, but mom punched him in his arm. _

"_Would you sit down," I exclaim, crossing my arms of my chest. _

"_I knew your dad never liked me," Jax sings in my ear. _

"_My dad never likes anyone," I snap, throwing my hand in his face to silence him. I turn back to the rebels. "You can get out and don't let the door hit you on the ass as you do." I say._

_The congregation gasps. _

_Damn that whole cursing in church thing again. _

_"Oh shut up," I reply in disgust, turning around, and snatching my bouquet. "Please do continue reverend." I say, politely. _

_"Actually it's **minister**," he corrects. _

_"I don't give a care," I roll my eyes. "Finish the damn ceremony!"_

_The congregation gasps and starts whispering feverishly. _

_Um…damn is a curse word? _

_"The next person who says a word is getting kicked out of the church on their ass, and the door will be slammed and locked in their face."_

I turn back to the altar, "Okay, go ahead--" And then I'm rudely interrupted once again by the doors of the church being blasted open. I look up to the ceiling. "Are you really that against this wedding?" I ask be guy. "Look, I apologize for cursing in church, but desperate times call for desperate measures," I explain, I bow my head, without even turning around. "Would someone please kick that person out…and slam and lock the door like I threatened like two seconds ago?"

_"Don't even bother girl, you know I'm just going to kick it down…"_

_I look up to the ceiling again. "Have a little mercy on me, **please**?" _

_I turn around to see Tommy putting his motorcycle helmet on his Harley. He starts to walk slowly towards the altar. Some dumb ass in the audience starts to clap slowly, and it grows into thundering applause by the time he reaches the altar. _

"_What **are** you doing?" I ask, as I try to fight the veil back from my face. _

"_What do you think I'm doing," he asks, literally sweeping me off my feet. _

"_I don't know what--"_

"_Rhetorical question Jude," he smiles, carrying me bridal style across the threshold._

"It's my dream dammit, I can answer rhetorical questions if I want to!" I laugh.

"Wake up Jude," somebody shakes me.

"I am a wake," I smile, still dreaming of unfortunate but fortunate wedding.

"Jude," someone says, irritably.

I begrudgingly open my eyes, looking anxiously around at my surroundings, not in a church. No million-member congregation (thank god). I look down at my clothes, no extravagant wedding gown. I sit up fully; on the leather swivel chair I'm sitting in and I look to my left and see Sadie and mom looking at me expectantly.

"What?" I ask, stretching.

"You can at least be a little more discreet about sleeping through her presentation," Sadie whispers, quietly out of the corner of her mouth. "Ugh, you still drool?"

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Oh, please. At least I don't snore as loud as she does—damn hippo. "Whatever," I grunt.

"Your phone is vibrating," she whispers, "It's **_been_** vibrating for the last half hour.

I glance down at my vibrating purse on the chair beside me. Damn, probably late for the studio…_again_. I flick my wrist, looking at my watch, groaning as I confirm my assumption: I'm late. I push ignore on my phone and turn to my bridal consultant who's mouth was running a kilometer a minute.

Yay! At least I get out of this hellhole. Saved by the irate Tommy.

"Olivia," I say, interrupting her as politely as possible, "I've got to go. The white china pattern is fine." I sigh.

"Jude," Sadie and my mom say in unison in equally anxious tones.

"What," I moan, continuing to gather up my planners, notebooks, and copies of _Bride Magazine_ to place them in my leather tote.

"You can't have just a plain white china pattern," mom fusses, as I head toward the door, leaving them sitting around the large table, watching Olivia display china sets.

"Pick the white plates with the gold trimming," Sadie suggests, nodding her head hopefully.

"I don't care," I snap, "Pick whatever you want." Damn, don't they know Tommy is going to kill me once I get to the studio? Don't they know he's going to bitch at me for the next two hours?

"Look," I say, turning around, and leaning against the doorframe. "Sadie, choose whatever you think is good okay?"

"It's your wedding Jude," mom sighs, narrowing her eyes at me.

"But I don't care what kind of silverware my guests eat off of," I whine. I was about to stamp my foot and pout for extra emphasis, but I didn't have time or the energy.

I've been here since 7 this morning, after getting 4 hours of sleep from staying up late at the studio, and I feel as though I've got nothing accomplished.

And I **_really_** don't care about silverware or chinaware. Especially when I wanted a damn simple wedding or something—family and friends. But what the hell do I get? A damn Princess Diana wedding, with a 270-person guest list that seems to keep growing by the hour.

No.

Growing by the minute.

Oh, and I do have a wonderful fiancé. The person who wants this big fat wedding, who isn't even here to help with it exactly…he just sends little e-mails or text messages adding things to my already humongous to-do list. Oh, I forgot, every once in a while, he does add people to the guest list.

His ass should be here in Canada picking out damn China patterns and invitations and place cards and wedding themes and all the other crap, not in Australia having **_fun_** co-staring in a flippin' action/adventure movie with Cameron Diaz.

"Whatever, Jude," mom sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's your wedding."

"Thank you," I sigh, leaving her and Sadie with a kiss on the cheek. I back out of the doorway rather quickly before they can ask me something else. I have a feeling picking out wine glasses are on today's itinerary. "I've gotta go now. Late." I remind her, pointing to the Dior watch Jax got me for our 6-month anniversary on my wrist.

I guess he's good for some things.

**A/N 2: Okay, so it's not in Tommy's POV from here on out. I was thinking about it for a few days now and I came to the conclusion that it'd be much more interesting for me as the writer, and probably you as the reader, if we got into Jude's head already. We already know all about Tommy's issues and he's already laid all his cards out on the table. So…Jude's turn. **

**It's always good to hear what you're thinking after a chapter. I'm also up for hearing your theories and ideas on how to make the story better. Basically, I'm begging for a little more feedback here. :) **

**-Airrelle **


	24. Chapter 24

As soon as I'm in the solitude of my car, my mind flickers back to my dream. Actually it seems to be a reoccurring dream…each time it's different, but not _so_ different.

Once, the minister, Paulson had a heart attack at the altar when he was about to say '_speak now or forever hold his peace_'. Another time, I was I walking down the aisle and I tripped on my dress. It ripped right at the seat.

But I wasn't that embarrassed though because I had on **_killer_** lingerie.

But this latest dream…

No, I think I'll call it a **_nightmare_**.

What if that actually happened? I would die if everyone on the bride's side stood up. Strike that. I would die if **anyone** stood up during at the 'speak now or forever hold your peace' part.

And Tommy busting through the church doors and whisking me away on his motorcycle, like some modern day Prince Charming?

Right. I doubt that'll happen.

"_Just answer me that, and if it's a good enough answer, I won't bring it up again. I promise to back off. Hell, I'll buy you a damn a wedding gift and sit on the bride's side." _He had said.

I must have been pretty convincing…

He hasn't done anything since he made that promise. He hasn't said _anything_ negative about my wedding, Jax, or my and Jax's relationship. (Sophia said that Kwest said he actually bought me a cappuccino maker off my bridal registry too.) But then again, that's been pretty easy for him for the past two months. He's had a **_great _**distraction.

**Yes. **

He's replaced my ass.

Yes. **Replaced** me. Apparently he found the new love of his life. Her name is Veronica. She looks like a Veronica too. She has a natural tan and dark hair and eyes. She's gorgeous and tall…

And tall **_and_** gorgeous…

**Exotic.**

That's what _most_ people would call her.

I call her what she is...

A **tramp**.

Ooh. I sound sorta _jealous_.

Ha! I'm not.

I'm pissed.

It's only been 6 months since he proclaimed his love for **me**. And he already found some new chick? Well, he didn't actually go out looking for her. She was practically right in his face 24/7. She was a new receptionist from the temp agency. (Sadie got an internship at a law firm…)

The key word there was 'temp', as in temporary. (As in she's not our receptionist anymore thank god.) Her modeling career finally got jump-started. I told you she was tall _and_ gorgeous, perfectly model appropriate. And I'm genuinely happy for her too.

Now every time I turned around, I don't have to see them all huddled up in the back alley smooching.

That's **our** spot.

No, not the spot where he kissed me on my 16th birthday---the back alley behind the coffee shop across the street.

So! We've never _actually_ had a moment back there before…but we _could_ have! So it's **still** our spot dammit.

I do sound like the jealous ex-girlfriend…

But I'm neither his ex nor am I jealous.

I'm just—hurt.

_Disheartened. _

6 months.

Just 6 months since his 'confession'.

You can't be in love and out of love with someone that quickly can you?

No.

I don't think so. It was just a case of lust just as I suspected.

He doesn't know what love is.

I bet he is in love with the tramp now too—just because she remembered he liked his coffee with 3 sugars and one cream.

Yup. A tramp.

And the bad thing about it is…she's not a tramp! We all double-dated one day when Jax was actually in town. (Double date was completely unintentional, we just so happened to end up sitting at the same table at one of Tommy's new artist's club concerts and we hung out later)… She's nice! Nicer than all of Tommy's other girlfriends. _Nicer than me for sure._

The good thing about it all is. I feel kind of free now that I know. I know he doesn't love me the way he _thinks_ he does. That night in Miami, I wanted to believe what he was saying so badly.

"_I've never seen anybody like you, I've never met anybody like you. I've never known any one like you." _

What girl doesn't want to hear things like that from her crush of 5 years?

When it's midnight…and you're looking at the Atlantic Ocean by moonlight? And it sounds **so** good to you. And you're wearing a beautiful sundress made of the softest material that's brushing against your skin, making you aware of all the thousands of nerve ending per square inch of your skin.

And when he said, _"I didn't ask to fall in love with you…I just couldn't help myself…" _I didn't know rather to **hurt** him or **kiss** him. So I ended up doing both and they both felt _so_ good at the time.

I'm not sure if I liked slapping him or kissing him better…

Kissing him. Definitely.

But now it hurts.

I **had** to be right.

He was just jealous because he's—well, he's Tommy. And he always gets that over-protectiveness thing. But it's okay…because Quincy and I are cool. He's found someone to love.

I have a fiancé.

The world is good.

Sorta.

My thoughts are frazzled as my purse starts buzzing from its spot on the passenger's seat. I know its Tommy. I contemplate ignoring it again, but I better just answer it before he has the damn S.W.A.T. team on me. It won't be very hard either considering I have a GPS system on my car. Not exactly my idea. (When I was 18, I had a run in with a stalker. After I got finished being freaked out about, I was kind of excited. You know if you start to be stalked by psycho fans you know you've come up in the music industry right.)

"Hello?"

"You're late,"

"Hey, Tommy," I say, rolling my eyes. He can at least give me a greeting before he starts tearing into me. "You know you could at least give me a 'Hello Jude, how are you doing? Is your life still hell?"

"Hello Ms. Johansen. How are you doing? Is your life still hell," he asks, in a sugary sarcastic tone. "You're 51 minutes late now,"

"Stop calling me that…I'm still _Jude Harrison_ for 8 more weeks," I grimace, unconsciously applying more pressure to the gas pedal. "I'm like 5 minutes away."

"You're mom said you just left Olivia's studio," Tommy states.

"You called **_my_** mother?" I question, switching lanes so I can pass some slow soccer mom on the freeway.

"You weren't picking up your cell," he says in a '_you made me do this_' tone. "You need to slow down girl."

I glance down at the speedometer, and slow down about twenty miles per hour. "I'm not speeding **_Pops_**."

I hear him groan, and mutter something. I smile inwardly, pushing on my cruise control to aid me in not speeding. "You need to sit tight, keep my chair warm, and I'll be there in 5-10 minutes like I said."

"You better be," he threatens.

"Or what?" I tease. I wonder what he could do. He _could_ give me that massage he still owes me from that time he was in the hospital in Miami. I should bring that up one day soon.

"You'll see if you're not here in the next 10-15 minutes."

"I thought you told me to stop speeding though."

"You said you weren't speeding."

Sometimes, I fear he doesn't know me at all…

"I **lied**." I say, in a duh-tone.

"Look," he groans, loudly. "Take your time and don't speed."

Aw, he is so sweet, caring about my well being like that…

"Like you need another damn ticket to add to the collection," he jokes.

Okay.

Perhaps he wasn't caring about my safety.

"I can afford it Pops," I laugh, signaling as I take the exit ramp.

He sighs, heavily, probably running a hand through his hair. "I think I need a bonus or raise or something for putting up with a diva-ish artist who comes in late 92 of the time."

"If T gets a raise, I wanna raise," Kwest yells in the background.

"I'm not a diva," I laugh weakly, trying to defend myself.

Am I?

Of course I'm not.

"Of _course_ you're not, Mrs. Johansen," he patronizes.

"Stop calling me that," I grumble, semi-ill-tempered. I've already told him this on numerous occasions, but his main focus is to annoy me.

"You really should get used to that, Jude," he says. "That is going to be your new name. **_Jude Johansen_**…"

"Or not," I interject.

"Oh?" he asks, sounding a little hopeful, if you ask me.

"Actually, I was thinking I'd keep my own last name or maybe get it hyphenated…." I mutter, shrugging as if he can actually see me.

I'm really just not feeling Jude Johansen for some reason. I really don't like Jude Johansen-Harrison. It sounds even more awkward than Jude Johansen. I'm not feeling the whole thing.

But if I ever went into the hiphop scene they could call me J.J.

Or not.

"I think it sounds okay," he says, "Not as good at Jude Quincy though right?"

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to: cecapo3610, Erin McKinley, jackjackio, Kris10rox, geek-squad, Trigun-VashMeryl4eva, burninsecretskept, Tanya50801, FreakEmoWriter17, bookworm0408, blueyes8907, LittleZurawski, Duddley111, and Tommy4eva for reviewing the last chapter. :) Bare with me a few more parts and I just might get the inside of her head down 'n packed. Anyway, review and tell me what you thought of this part. I'd love to hear what you think so far. **


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Thank you everyone (Tanya50801, Erin McKinley, Tommys my 21, LittleZurawski, KiTeH, RockerChick13, Sarah, xxecstasy, jackjackio, Duddley111, musical-cynders, Trigun-VashMeryl4eva, mandy1485, Tommy4eva, xTamarax, bookworm0408, Kris10rox, melliebaby, James's Girl Forever, iamthatplace, LuvTommy56, amd blueyes8907) for reading AND reviewing.

All of your feedback shocked the hell-o out of me, not that I'm complaining of course. :) Who knew that the last line of the chapter would have started up so much commotion? Anyway, I realize this part is a little short side, but I've been a little busy lately with Fourth of July plans. (Happy Independence Day by the way.) Anyway, I thought it would be better than nothing right?

Hope you enjoy. :) -----Airrelle

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"I think it sounds okay," he says, "Not as good at Jude Quincy though right?"

Hold up.

Rewind…

He really said that?

I nearly crash into a fire hydrant when I run up the sidewalk, but at least I miss the newspaper stand and the old man with the walker.

Why do people let me get behind the wheel? My god, I'm going to kill myself or someone else one day.

_Not as good as Jude Quincy?_

He's right.

Jude Johansen does not sound as good as Jude Quincy.

I can't say I've **never** thought about that before.

NO!

Not _now_…not _recently_.

When I was _younger_ and more naïve…before I knew he was a huge mess with a lot of baggage. Before I knew it took him hours to give his hair that "I don't give a shit" tousled look. Before I knew he actually worked out to achieve that six-pack.

Miraculously, I get my car off the sidewalk without drawing too much attention to myself, thank goodness. The press would have another fiesta if I got another ticket or something for reckless driving.

"Jude! Are you okay girl?" he asks, genuinely sounding concerned. I'm guessing squealing tires and slamming brakes would worry a person.

Oh, I'm fine.

My hearts just about to beat through my chest.

I can't breathe.

I'm about to burst into tears.

My hand hurts from how hard I'm clutching my phone to my ear.

"Um, no! I'm mean yes. I'm good," I murmur, "What was that about Jude Quincy?" I ask, pressing my cell even closer to my ear.

I swallowed hard, waiting for his explanation.

I haven't been this anxious since Jax asked me to marry him.

Now that was night.

At first I was a little embarrassed. But then, I just tuned out everything and watched him in his black tuxedo, sitting on a stool looking like a lost member of the Backstreet Boys. And then he started singing the corniest song—off-key. It was _terrible_. I still had to laugh even if he was singing from the heart. And then he dropped to one knee and pulled out a ring box…

I couldn't breathe.

Like now as I wait for Tommy to tell me what the hell he's talking about.

"I was just kidding," he laughs.

_Just kidding._

He said he was **just kidding**.

Just fucking kidding?

I just nearly killed myself just because he was just fucking kidding? And he's laughing now? Nothing is flipping funny about this situation. That's like telling someone there dog died…and it didn't.

I laugh a little to try to show I haven't been affected by him any. "You're funny Quincy," You fucking asshole! "I'm about to turn into the parking garage." I say as calmly as possible.

I hang up without saying goodbye or waiting for him to say anything else, and I throw my phone into my bag.

_Just kidding._

* * *

I stare at him out the corner of my eye, pretending to work on the lyrics to my newest song. I hope he's not able to read minds because I think he'd be shocked and a little uneasy if he could hear all of the adjectives streaming through my mind to describe him. 

_Parasitic._

Ooh! Now, that one describes him. The way he can just get right beneath my skin at any time…how he can leave me irritated and _itching_. Yes, he's definitely parasite-like.

Then again I'm the one who always **lets** him do it! I always let him irritate me. My god, can't I ignore him? _Turn the other cheek?_

No.

I can't.

There are good things about him though. Somewhere beneath the surface, somewhere deep, deep, deep, deep in there, he's a good a guy.

"Jude," he asks, his voice full of concern.

"Tommy," I reply with a painted on smile.

"Jude," he says, flatly, sounding a _wee_ bit frustrated.

There's a good quality!

He's a very _persistent_ person…

A person who **persistently** bothers me…

"What's the matter with you?" he asks, finally noticing all the dirty looks I've been throwing him for the past twenty minutes.

He's **caring** too.

A _caring_ evil dimwit who asks stupid questions…

"Caring evil" dimwit—that's kind of oxymoronic. A person can't be evil and caring at the same time, can they?

**Oxymoron. **

Ooh! Another adjective that describes Tommy!

A person who contradicts themselves…for example, when a person says they love you and then they find 'love' with another person a short period later.

Oh yeah.

He's clearly showing me love right there, especially with a chick that's so completely different from me. She's like everything I'm not.

I mentioned she was nice, tall **_and_** gorgeous, right?

"Jude. Tell. Me. What's. The. Matter. Please," he probes.

Um. Instead of _oxymoronic_, let's just say _moronic_.

Why the hell is he asking **moronic** questions? He knows precisely why I am pissed.

I will **_not_** say it aloud.

I **will** just pretend there's nothing wrong.

Nothing at all…

"Nothing," I reply, shortly.

"You just go ahead and get it all out in the open," Tommy suggests me, from his spot in the producer chair.

Hardworking?

Yeah.

He **works hard** too screw with me.

Ha! No pun intended.

"I can't work with you peeved."

And he's _accusatory_. Because he's accusing me of things I am not.

I'm not peeved, _necessarily_—I mad as hell.

Pissed.

Infuriated.

That's not the same thing as being simply _upset_.

Hell, I can chew glass right now.

Not really.

I shrug and doodle more furiously on the edge of my notebook.

"Come on Jude," he whispers in my ear softly. "Tell me what's the matter."

I jerk involuntarily as his words tickle just behind my ear.

Asshole!

He knows that spots a little um—**_sensitive_**! And now every chance he gets, he uses this to his advantage. He _knows_ what he's doing. It's not accidental. I glare at him and roll a few inches away from him.

"Do I look pissed," I snap.

"Uh. Yes." He answers, shaking his head vigorously up and down, with that little smirk of his. That smirk he does when he and I both know something, and everyone else doesn't.

"Whatever," I mumble, picking up my notebook and walking towards the door.

"Jude, you **just **got here," he moans, swiveling around in his chair to watch me exit.

I pause at the door, rolling my eyes, and turn around slowly. "I'm not leaving, I'm just going to sit in the lobby to work on these lyrics."

He sighs, turning back towards the soundboard. "Okay, go ahead."

"Like I needed your permission," I scoff, turning on my heel and stomping down the hall.


	26. Chapter 26

**Thanks to ****Erin McKinley****Biminigirl15****LuvTommy56****, Adrienne, ****melliebaby****Mrs.TimRozon92****burninsecretskept****Tanya50801****FreakEmoWriter17****Kris10rox****blueyes8907****romanma32****, and ****Duddley111**** for reading AND reviewing. Hope you guys enjoy this next part...it's extremely long to make up for shortness of that last one. :)**

* * *

I'm trying desperately hard to finish writing this song so I can get of here earlier than usual, but I started it before I got pissed at Quincy. At the moment, I'm not feeling happy and bubbly. But it has potential so I'm going to try it out, even though thoughts of seriously injuring Quincy are floating around in my cerebellum.

_It's hard to remember how it felt before  
Now I found the love of my life...  
Passes things get more comfortable  
Everything is going right_

See now there's a problem. I'm not feeling that secure with our relationship. Tom and me that is…everything **_was_** fine until he decided that he needed to start dating again and the whole reoccurring dream thing really isn't working for me either.

I told Sadie about it and she said it was just cold feet. You don't get cold feet this much time before the wedding do you? Your toes can feel a little nippy, but you shouldn't be having nightmares about the happiest day of your life, right?

_And after all the obstacles  
It's good to see you now with someone else  
And it's such a miracle that you and me are still good friends  
After all that we've been through  
I know we're cool_

Another half-truth (which qualifies for a lie), because it is certainly not good to see Quincy with someone else, but we _are_ still good friends…when I'm not threatening to kill him.

We're definitely **not** cool at the moment.

Not in the least bit.

_Just kidding_?

He so wasn't kidding. That kind of stuff doesn't just come out of the blue like that, right?

But still….just kidding?

This is karma.

I'm being punished.

Yup.

That time in fifth grade when I told Jamie that I liked it him and then I said "Psych"…

Yup. This is karma….**_what goes around comes around_.**

We used to think it was impossible  
Now you call me by my new last name  
Memories seem like so long ago  
Time always kills the pain

Ha! I'm going to need a decade to ease the pain of the newest blow to my ego…but I am finding comfort behind that old saying: _"There's a little truth behind every __just kidding…"_ Who would have thought the words of an anonymous Xanga philosopher could bring so much comfort to me at the moment?

The song is still missing something by the time Quincy comes in, but at least I'm not as pissed anymore. I'd say that itself is a major accomplishment.

"Why are you in Darius's office?" he asks, peaking in at me from the doorframe.

"Because I don't have my own office to hide in," I smile briefly before turning my attention back to my journal.

He walks in shutting the door behind him quietly. "Are you doing anything productive or are you working on your guest list?"

"Well, if I were working on my guest list, I'd say that's pretty productive," I snap.

So much for my mellowness.

"Um hum," he grunts, like one of those teachers in high school with an inferiority complex. "I see you're still in a mood."

"I'm not _in a mood_," I reply, sweetly, starting to doodle around the edge of my journal page.

"Yeah, you are," he sings, sitting in Darius's chair and propping his Nikes up on his desk.

"Darius is going to kill you," I grin, glancing up at him, before continuing to doodle. "You know he fingerprints his office when he leaves for a while."

"That's a myth," he says leaning back in the chair with his hands behind his head.

"If you say so," I smirk, beginning to chew on the end of my pen. We sit there silently. Well, I'm silent. He's making his swivel chair he's occupying squeak annoyingly.

"Quincy," I say, in a warning tone.

Ooh, I sound like my mother. The same tone she used with me this morning when she didn't want me to leave for the studio.

He makes an apologetic face, and grins sheepishly. "Breaking your concentration?"

Yes, you being in the same room with me is breaking my damn concentration.

I nod my head vigorously, and settle back into the chair in front the desk, continuing to doodle.

Doodling doesn't seem like I'm being very productive, but trust me I am. If I doodle long enough, then the words just flow. It's pretty mystic, the whole writing process I mean.

He leans forward on the desk, propping his head up on his forearms. I peek up at him briefly, to see him looking at me.

"Why are you looking at me?"

"Why are you looking at me," he mimics.

"I'm not looking at you," I reply flatly, rolling my eyes.

"Then how do you know I'm looking at you?" he asks.

That's a good question…

"Are you looking at me?" I ask.

"No…" he trails off, occupying himself with the pendulum on Darius's desk.

I'm sitting in the armchair with my legs over the side, so I can see exactly what he's doing through my peripheral vision. I surprisingly have good peripheral vision by the way; you'd think my driving would be a little better.

_Circles and triangles,_

_and now we're hanging out with your new girlfriend  
So far from where we've been  
I know we're cool_

I have another verse down before the ringing sound of the pendulum moving back and forth against the other silver balls, brings me close to the end of my sanity.

"Quincy!"

"What," he asks, with an innocent look.

"Don't look at me like that," I mumble, beginning to scribble again.

He's just blown my concentration.

**Again.**

"Are you finished with the song yet?" he asks, standing up and walking over to the bookshelf behind me.

"No, I was doing pretty good until you came here by the way," I remark, glancing over my shoulder at him. His back is turned from me though. "What are you doing?" I ask, turning around fully.

"Looking for Darius's stash of gummy bears," he says, feeling behind some books. He turns around to look at me with a devilish grin when he holds up a huge gallon jar of candy. "Aha!"

I chuckle softly shaking my head at his boyishness.

He plops down in the seat beside me unscrewing the lid. I watch him in amazement as he starts to pick through for green ones. "What?" he asks, through a mouthful. "You want some?" he offers, holding the jar out to me.

"Um, no," I decline, shaking my head. "He probably counted them before he left."

He looks like he's pondering that for a moment, and then shakes his head. "Nah, Darius can't count up that far."

I smirk, "The room is probably bugged."

"Oh, come on live a little," he says, wiggling his eyebrows up and down, and holding the plastic bear-shaped jar out to me again.

I laugh, rolling my eyes, but I grab a handful anyway. He grabs my journal as I'm chewing through the mess in my mouth.

"I'm not finished with that." I swallow, when I see him starting to read it. "It's still missing something," I trail off.

I'm curious about how he'll like it, so I am watching him intently as he reads.

"What's this word?" he asks, pointing to a word.

"Obstacles," I sigh.

"And this one?" he says, pointing to another spot on the page.

"Through," I groan.

He nods, continuing to read.

"And this one…"

"Quincy! Shut it," I yell, snatching my journal from him, and punching him in the arm. Geez, not everyone can have little perfect girly handwriting like him. "It's a rough copy."

He rubs his arm where I hit him. "That hurt,"

"Stop being a pansy," I grumble, swinging, my legs back over the arm of my chair.

"Stop hitting like me like a man," he grunts.

"I'm taking that as a compliment," I murmur, staring at the words scattering the once blank page of my journal.

I glare at him, as he slides my chair closer to him. "Go ahead and sing it for me," he whispers, like we're plotting some evil scheme.

"It's not finished," I reply softly, playing along with his little conspiracy scenario.

"Sing it anyway," he smiles, tickling my silk stocking clad feet.

I feel high.

…all light and fluttery.

Like only his touch is keeping anchored in the stratosphere.

He **still** owes me a massage, I think, as I watch him, run his hand down the length of my foot.

This is quickly inching over the line of an innocent, friendly touch, to—something else. I smile, a sort of you-better-stop-before-we-go-too-far type smile, at him before recapturing my feet from his hands. Shifting my position in my chair so that my feet are underneath me, I tuck my hair behind my ears.

"It's really rough," I warn him again, trying to shake my uneasiness.

"Let me have it," he says, leaning back in his chair, and closing his eyes.

I am such a guy.

The only thing I am thinking about right now is actually _letting him have it_.

I'm so happy his eyes are clothes so he can't see me blushing.

"Yeah," I murmur, before singing.

I wait for like a millisecond after I get finished singing before I start to panic.

Does he hate it?

He does…I know he does…

He's not saying anything.

"It's missing something, right?" I mumble, beginning to chew on my thumb now. I know, disgusting habit. I don't care! Would you rather me be smoking?

No. Didn't think so.

He nods, slowly, his eyes still closed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. I watch him carefully. My eyes wondering over his body, looking for the slightest sign of a response.

Well, I was at least, before his forearms distracted me. What can I say; I have a thing for forearms. Not exactly a fetish, the word fetish makes it sound perverted. I just like it when guys have strong looking forearms.

He's been working out…

I jump a little when he clears his throat and looks at me curiously.

"What," I say, clearing my own throat. I wasn't admiring your forearms or that nice tan you've got going on…

I wasn't.

I promise.

"Was it that bad?" I ask, fiddling with one of my chandelier earrings.

He shakes his head 'no' and gestures for me to pass him my journal, and I don't know why, it's not like he can read it. He points to the pen in my hand, and signals for me to hand it over too.

Damn.

Say something man!

I'm sending him telepathic pleas but he's not getting them. I watch him as he hurriedly scribbles something down. He hands it back to me after glancing over the whole thing again.

He jumps up like there's a match underneath his ass, and tells me in our conspirator-like tone. "Um, I'll be in the studio, when you're ready to record that…"

"Kay," I say, watching him walk out the door. He startles me when he turns around at the doorframe. He looks at me questioningly again.

"What?" I ask, flushing.

I was **not** staring at your ass.

I wasn't admiring the view as you walked away from me.

I wasn't.

Really.

I'm aliar.

"Your song…" he drags out, leaning against the doorframe.

"Yeah," I say, hopefully, gathering up my courage so I can actually look him in the eye.

He rubs his forehead, smiling.

Or is he smirking?

"It has potential," he finishes, walking away quickly.

I get the feeling that wasn't what going to say, I look down at what he's added on to my lyrics.

_And I'll be happy for you_

_If you can be happy for me

* * *

_**The song I mutilated this time was called "Cool" by Gwen Stefani.**


	27. Chapter 27

**I was tempted to wait until in the morning to post this, but then I got to thinking about all the great people such as Erin McKinley, Duddley111, romanma32, LittleZurawski, Tanya50801, jackjackio, blueyes8907, Trigun-VashMeryl4eva, IntoYou14, LuvTommy56, Judeh05, melliebaby, iamthatplace, babyf, riotgirllina, and bookworm0408 who read AND review most of the time…and decided to fight through the sleepiness. :)**_

* * *

_

_"It's hard to remember how it felt before / Now I found the love of my life... / Passes things get more comfortable / everything is going right"_

"Jude," Tommy interrupts, "I'm not feeling your tone, it's still a little flat. Do it again."

"Okay," I grunt, finally starting to get a little frustrated. It is take number twenty something. I'm starting to think this is a little personal; it never takes us this long to get a song down and packed.

"Okay, Tom, play it back for me, but I think it sounds good the way I'm singing it," I smile, sweetly.

"Who's the producer, Jude," he rolls his eyes. I watch him lean back in his chair crossing his arms over his chest.

Asshole!

He gives me the signal and music immediately starts flooding through my headphones. "_And after all the obstacles / It's good to see you now with someone else_"…shit. I know I messed that last line up, I look up at him briefly, but he's signaling for me to continue. I shrug, continuing softly.

"_And it's such a miracle that you and me are still good friends / After all that we've been through / I know we're cool_" crap. Last word was a little on the sharp side again.  
"Jude! What the crap? Are you not feeling well? Do you need to take a break," he yells.

"Would you calm down," I yell, sliding off my headphones before he blows out my eardrums. I make my way out of the sound booth, stomping towards him. "My god, you've only had me singing for the past two hours! What do you expect? It's late and I'm tired."

"Well, if you would give me something I could work with, Jude, we could get out of here. Do you want to call it a night and go home?" he questions, clearly annoyed.

"No," I mumble, snatching the water bottle from its spot on the floor. "No, I don't want to go home. But you really do need to calm down. Are you missing a booty call or something?" I ask.

"No," he replies, quickly, narrowing his eyes at me. "Aren't you missing a call from Jax?"

"Actually, yes."

"Then would you like to take a break, so you can talk to him, and perhaps come back with less flat notes…"

"Screw you, Tommy," I snap, heading towards the door.

"No, maybe I should screw you. Then perhaps I could get a good note from your vocal chords."

Oh.

No.

He.

Didn't.

I can't believe he just said to me, but through my exasperation and shock, I manage to throw my water bottle at him.

I was truly sorry for a minute there. I didn't _mean_ to hit him. I anticipated him moving before it actually hit him.

Damn his slow reflexes!

My hand clamps over my gaping mouth and I stand there staring at him.

"I am so so--"

He silences me with his hand, not saying a word, but his eyes are glazed over like that time when I pushed him in the hot tub.

And he still hasn't said a word, as he points toward the door with his left hand and rubs the back of his head with the other. I begin to slowly walk backwards out the doorway, just in case he decides to throw it back at me—or something more drastic.

I find solitude in Darius's office once again and take the opportunity to call Jax as Quincy suggested.

I no longer feel any remorse about hitting Quincy.

He _deserved_ that.

He did.

No, he deserved worse that.

As if he could make me belt out any notes at all.

I bet he could—that time in the elevator in Miami.

But that's _really_ not the point.

And the bottle was only half full, it slipped out of my hand really.

I drum my fingertips on the desktop as I listened to well—me. His ringback tone this time is my single first "24 hours".

Good times recording that song.

Or not.

I remember when we first started recording it how I wanted to punch him, but his blue eyes, gelled hair and bad boy reputation clouded my better judgment.

It's really ridiculous how we keep doing our little routine, even after 6 years. We fight. We get over it. We record. And then we usually kiss or have some kind of awkward moment with one another. But a good record usually comes out of it.

It's rather sick when I think about it, but if we didn't do it then we wouldn't be Tommy and Jude.

And plus, at least a good song comes out of it.

"Hello," he finally answers.

"I like your ringback tone," I smile, leaning back in my seat.

"I thought you might."

"I do, I do," I laugh, propping my feet up on D's desk.

"Do you realize we're going to be saying that at the altar in 8 weeks?" he asks, bringing a smile to my face.

Its good to know that he's thinking of things like this.

"Yeah, I know," I sigh, "You'll be proud of me, I picked out a china pattern today and I got the final, well I hope it's the final guest lists finished. I emailed you a copy."

"Okay, I haven't got a chance to load up my laptop yet," he says in an apologetic tone.

"It's okay, whenever you get a chance to." Maybe he'll forget…and then he won't get a chance to add more names to the list.

There's an audible silence on the line and he immediately discovers something's wrong because we usually talk about the stupidest but oddly entertaining bits of information from our day.

"What's the matter babe? Having a bad day?" he asks.

"Nothing really," I reply, trying to sound more upbeat.

"Yeah. Right," he laughs, softly. "No really what's the matter? Bad day in the studio."

"Mostly, Tommy's just being a dick," I grumble.

"What was that babe?" he asks.

"Yeah, tough time recording this one song…" I sigh, clutching the phone closer to my ear.

"Ah. I'm sorry."

"It's not your _fault_. Anyway, mostly, I'm just missing you."

"I miss you too," he says in the little baby voice he does.

I'd like to strangle him when he does that, and then revive him so I can strangle him again.

"I'm sitting here watching the sunrise…wishing you were here."

"Yeah, me too." I whisper.

I'd much rather be in Australia than here, fighting with that overzealous pompous idiot AKA Tom Quincy.

"I'll see you next week though, right?" I ask, starting to slowly spin in my chair.

"What do you mean see me next week?" he asks, perplexedly.

"Oh my gosh, Jax," I groan, abruptly stopping my spinning. "You did not forget Shay's wedding."

"No! No, I didn't forget babe," he tries to lie.

He's not a good liar.

"Yes, you did," I grunt out, placing my forearms on the desk.

"Not purposely."

"So, there's no way you get off?"

"I doubt it…" he trails off. "If I take a little time off right now, we won't be done filming in time."

"It's okay," I sigh, trying to be understanding about the whole thing. "I'll ask Mason to be my date. It'll be fine."

I hear someone in the background calling out his name.

"Ugh, I got to talk to you later Jude. I have to get to wardrobe," he sighs, sadly. "And I'm sorry about the wedding, really I am."

"I know, it's okay."

"Okay, we'll talk later?"

"Of course."

"Bye. Love you."

"Bye," I say, hanging up.

I sit there with my head in my heads in for a while letting self-pity sink in a while. Too bad my sulking fit is interrupted way too early with a knock on the door.

"Come on in," I say.

I just see the door open enough for an arm to sneak through between the door and the frame, a white napkin waving around.

"You don't have a handgun out or anything do you?" Tom asks, opening the door a little more to slip his head in.

"Possibly…" I sigh, putting my head back down on the desk. "I wouldn't risk it if I were you."

"You're worth a risk," he replies, walking towards me. "Here you go."

I glance up to see a wonderful cup of coffee from the café across the street. "Thanks." I grumble, accepting the peace offering.

He could apologize, but that's not apart of routine.

He's not sorry about what he said anyway.

And I'm not sorry for chucking that water bottle at him.

"Welcome," he nods his head, sitting in the chair in front of me. "So about this song…"

Couldn't I have gotten two more seconds of silence?

No, of course not.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Two weeks without a post? I know, I'm terrible. My apologies. I finally got a job though. And that summer assignment list that I've been putting off all summer has to be completed. I've been busy. But I must learn to manage my time better, because I know how it is when you're waiting for a fanfic to be updated. (Jackjackio…where is my update for _What Is, What was, What Can Be_?) **

**Thanks to everyone who took the time to read AND review: Duddley111, KiTeH, LuvTommy56, Judeh05, Camsma, lileigh760, LittleZurawski, Erin McKinley, GiliwasCool, lplovers1913, Tanya50801, blueyes8907, musical-cynders, iamthatplace, Tommy4eva, Trigun-VashMeryl4eva, starfan88, melliebaby, and burninsecretskept.**

* * *

"So what exactly are you wearing to the wedding anyhow?" Mason asks, from his spot on my bed. He's supposed to be helping me pack, but of course he's not. It's okay though because I called in reinforcements. Sadie should be here in a few minutes. 

"Well," I sigh, falling back onto the bed. "I was thinking this white--"

"Jude, honey," he interrupts, shaking his index finger at me. "You do NOT wear white or beige to a wedding."

"Why," I ask.

He rolls his eyes and leans back and crosses his legs at the ankles again. "Were you raised in the jungle? You'd be competing with the bride."

"Oh," I grunt. How the hell was I supposed to know that? "Well excuse me. I've only been to one wedding in my entire life, and I was the damn flower girl."

"It's okay," he assures me, patting my arm. "What did the invitation say exactly?"

I shrug.

Does he mean verbatim?

" 'You Miss Jude Harrison are cordially invited to—"

"No," he snaps, shaking his head. "Did it say formal, semi-formal, black-tie, white-tie…ultra formal. Ooh, I hope ultra-formal because I got a nice bling-blingity _Breitling_ wristwatch the other day that I have yet to show off--"

"It didn't say," I interrupt. I don't want to hear him talk about his watch for the next half hour.

"Okay," he says, sadly, raising himself into a sitting position on my bed. "The wedding is at 7:30 right?"

I nod, rummaging through my nightstand for my stash of Reese's Pieces. "Yeah. 7:30."

"Well, since it didn't say…and it's evening basically—on a yacht…go for a cocktail dress. Below the knee. You shouldn't have to wear a hat or gloves. Go for simplicity not glitzy."

"How do you know all of this?" I ask, exasperated.

"My mother made me take the etiquette lessons when I was kid. Plus I have two older sisters who have already been hitched. You need to put those down," he says, pointing to my bag of Reese's.

I scoff and eat another handful. "I need this candy. I'm hungry and nervous. It's virtually my sanity at the moment. In other words, no."

"Okay," he shrugs. "In 6 weeks, when you're at the altar in a squeeze-y wedding dress. Do not say a thing."

Damn you Mason!

I begrudgingly hand him my bag of goods and watch him devour a handful in a matter of milliseconds.

How rude.

"I don't like you," I state, flatly, standing up and walking over to my closet.

"What?" he asks, through a mouthful.

I put my hand up and shake my head. "Back to my dilemma…"

"Get up and show me what you have…"

Walking through my closet, I start to pull a couple of dresses that I think are suitable down. Most of them dresses I've never worn before from up and coming designers who give out free clothing trying to get their name out, some from established designers who are also trying to get publicity.

I take about 4 dresses back out into my bedroom to show to Mason. I hold up a pink one. It's cute: square neckline, barely knee length.

"Add some pearls and you'll look just like a Stepford wife," he laughs, adjusting the pillows behind him, and laying back down. "We need more _sexy_, less _mommy_."

I hold up a green dress. A halter, a-symmetrical at the bottom.

"That looks exactly like the color of baby vomit." He snorts, making himself even more comfortable on my bed.

"Mason," I say in a warning tone, pointing a hanger at him.

"What?" he asks, innocently.

"I'm going to shove this hanger up your--"

"Nose," he interjects.

"That wasn't what I was going to say, but whatever," I say, giving him a look and head back to the closet.

After several more wise cracks about dresses, the doorbell rings, and I rush down stairs to answer.

I've never been so happy to see Sadie in all of my life. "Hey, Sades," I greet her, resisting the urge to throw my arms around her and thank her for being born. Yes. Mason is getting on my nerves that much.

"I like your shoes." I comment. She'll like me noticing her shoes more than a hug anyway.

"Oh thank you," she says, stepping inside, and shutting the door behind her. "I got them from Saks. On sale."

She continues telling me all about how her feet came to be in her shoes as we walk up the stairs to my bedroom. "…and then this old woman with one too many facelifts tried to squeeze her size 9 hooves into the size 7. It was totally wishful thinking. But, they're mine now."

Her smug grin melts off her face as she stops at the entrance to my room. "What the hell happened to your room?" she asks, a curious tone to her voice. "Hey, Mason," Sadie greets, kicking her shoes off at the doorway, jumping on my bed beside him.

"We're looking for something suitable for Jude to wear to the wedding…" Mason explains, offering her candy.

"Hey," I exclaim, "Aren't you going to tell her that she needs to be watching her weight for her bridesmaid dress?"

"Nah, you don't need to watch your weight either Jude," he shrugs, "I just wanted your food."

I roll my eyes and shake my head. "This," I explain, pointing to the dozens of dresses all over my bed, "Is the discard pile."

I notice her eyes widen at the word "discard"…as in throw away.

"No. Not _discard_ pile. More like **_Reject_** pile. As in they're not wearable to the wedding," I love Sadie to death, but she doesn't even shop that often anymore, she just comes and looks around in my closet.

"It's white-tie right?" Sadie inquires, still eyeing a few dresses at the end of the bed.

"It didn't say," Mason informs her as I head back to the closet.

"Well, it's pretty safe to say it's formal. Just go for a simple dress, below the knee. Not to sexy or anything."

"That's what Mason said," I grunt, looking around my closet. I come across the white sundress that I bought in Miami.

I can't but to smile to myself when I think of the last time I wore it. The night I ended up stuck in the elevator with Quincy. I didn't think we were going to make it out of there a live that night.

I wanted to **kill** him.

Not figuratively either.

He's just so _infuriating_. I really did like it better when I didn't know he was so full of shit. When I looked up to him thinking he was so wise and mysterious, but now I can read him like a book. And I know him. Like I really know him. I can look out how he's standing or how he's positions his hands and know exactly what he's feeling.

He's so transparent.

But there is something slightly comforting about knowing that you can know someone so well. To know that I can depend on him even after I throw water bottles at his head, or slap him across the face, or pick and argue with him.

Jax and me aren't at that level in our relationship quite yet. I haven't really seen any bad traits in him yet. He has to have some right? Everyone does. What if I marry him and then I find out he has a lot of skeletons in his closet. What if he has a temper…he has to get mad sometimes. He's never gotten angry before in front of me.

And if he is that saint-like…what kind of marriage would that be? I want confrontation sometimes. In a relationship I want to fuss and fight and throw things at each other and then have angry sex in the elevator…

And then make up.

Well, it doesn't have to be an elevator per se. I just said elevator because--

Never mind

Is that weird?

That I **want** confrontation? I want to argue?

That **is** weird. But it's not as weird as Jax and me not ever fighting over anything. He always let's me get my way, well, besides the wedding planning. But besides that, he's like 'whatever you want honey'.

"Did you get lost Jude?" Mason calls.

"Your closet isn't that big," Sadie adds in.

"I'm coming," I mumble, hanging the sundress back up, and carrying two more out for appraisal.

"No," they say in unison.

"That one looks like the color of Pepto-Bismol," Sadie snickers.

"It's dusty rose," I say flatly.

"And that one," Mason says, pointing to the strapless gown in my right hand. He shakes his head, and grimaces, "It's just ugly."

"It's not ugly," I protest.

"Do you not want to go to the wedding? Is that what the problem is?"

Before I even get a chance to answer, Sadie puts her two cents in. "Yeah, I think that's it. If you don't want to go, then wearing an ugly dress is not going to solve your problems. Just say that you have to work or something and send a crock pot."

"I want to go," I insist. I throw the other two dresses in the reject pile and crawl over Mason so I can lie in between him and Sadie. "I just don't want to go without Jax."

"Hello, I'm coming," Mason interrupts, gently shoving my shoulder.

"I know," I sigh, patting his hand. "It's not the same."

"It's because I'm homosexual isn't it," he teases.

Yes.

"Shut up," I laugh, staring up at the roof of my canopy bed.

"You sit here, and I'll go shop in your closet for a while," Sadie offers, patting my knee.

She comes back after a while, with a few dresses over her arm. She hands me an off white Chiffon dress. "Here try this on."

"Mason here," I say jabbing my thumb towards him, "Said white was out."

"And it is--"

"Last decade. That rule is more lax now, the same as only virgin brides wearing pure white," Sadie snaps, pushing me into the closet with the dress. "As long as it's not some big puffy white gown, you should be fine." She explains, standing outside the door. "Plus, we'll accessorize and break up the white."

I come back out and do a little turn.

"Nah." They reply in unison.

"You would definitely be competing with the bride in that white."

"It's mother of pearl," Sadie corrects. "The problem is not the color, but the shape. Too sexy. Here let's try this one." She hands me another dress.

"This is black," I state.

Even _I _know you're not supposed to wear black to a wedding.

"Good job, I'm glad you know it's black," she teases, patting me on the head.

"Everyone's so funny today," I roll my eyes, laughing good-naturedly. "Black to a wedding?"

"Black is perfectly acceptable," she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest.

"For a funeral," Mason laughs.

"It's fine, trust me. It's formal evening. Black is fine," she reassures me, shoving me into the closet.

"Black is fine when you're in mourning," Mason snorts.

"Mason you need shut up…who died from the Fab Five and made you apart of _Queer Eye for the Straight Guy_?"

I laugh aloud, as I undress in the closet. Mason and Sadie are going to be at it for a while.

I reexamine the dress more closely, noticing more details than just the color. It's a pretty simple dress: sleeveless, with a wonderfully embroidered neckline, with a cascading detail in the front.

Fully clothed, I examine my reflection in the full-sized mirror behind the door. I tilt my head to the side, trying to get a better angle. I must admit. It's the best one I've tried on today. I turn around from side to side and watch how the fabric flows around my ankles.

I like it.


	29. Chapter 29

**Awww, I take it you guys don't like the Jommyless chapters uh? Anyway...thanks to everyone (burninsecretskept, Erin McKinley, LittleZurawski, cecapo3610, LuvTommy56, Duddley111, Tanya50801, blondenhot, and melliebaby) who left reviews :D...it's appreciated.**

* * *

"You're late," Tommy grunts, as Mason and I hustle through the main doors to the small airport to the lobby. 

Duh, Tommy, I'm always late.

No, wait.

Correction: I'm always _fashionably_ late.

"Traffic was hellacious," Mason shrugs, struggling with his bag and my bags.

"Liar," I mumble.

He knows good and damn well we are late because he likes waiting until the last minute to pack, and then he couldn't find his Stetson that he was planning to wear at the wedding, and then he lost his keys…and he refused to let me drive so we called a cab.

And after all of that, I'm only 20 minutes late, so I am going to be happy about my accomplishment.

Dropping my bags on the couch, I notice Myles sitting in a corner, playing his Gameboy, and Veronica nearly in hysterics in Tommy's arms.

Did he break up with her? Nah, surely he wouldn't be hugging her if he just ended their relationship…

"What's the matter," I mouth to Tom as I walk over to the sitting area, but she answers my question.

"We're going to die, aren't we?" she gasps.

I give Mason a look and try to suppress a smile.

Quincy's girlfriend is a little pansy, not that I can talk that much. Planes freak me the hell out too…

But not this badly…

Can anyone say "_Drama Queen_"?

"No, we're not going to die," Tommy sighs, tucking her hair behind her ears, and rubbing her back.

"Don't lie to her Tommy," Myles grins, playing his Gameboy. "You're dying the moment you're born."

"Myles," Tommy says in a warning tone, turning to his right to pat Veronica's hand. "You're fine Sweetie, we're going to be just fine."

"You **_are_** more apt to get in a car crash," Myles put in.

I know for a fact Myles statistics aren't calming Veronica's nerves whatsoever because he sure as hell wasn't helping me out with them when we went parasailing.

"Myles…shut up," Tommy yells, turning back to Veronica.

"I'm just trying to help her out," Myles shrugs, briefly glancing up from his Gameboy, to throw Tommy a hurt look.

Aw, he's so cute…adorable cute either. He's hit that the '_awkward phase_' as my Aunt Sylvia says. He still has his boyish looking face, but he's gotten braces at least 2 feet taller since I seen him last time in Miami. And his voice is changing up.

"What are you playing," Mason asks, walking over to where Myles's corner.

Mason's really off my Christmas list…I was just teasing before, but now I'm serious.

_"Jude! You're killing her!" He wailed._

_**Literally** wailed. _

_I've never heard a grown man hit such a high note, except for that one time I snatched Tommy's blanket off him and saw his total package…like Lil Tommy Q and everything. I asked him once if he think he'd be ever to hit that note again, but he has no recollection of ever hitting it. _

_I hopped off the chair like someone lit a match underneath my butt, "What?" I ask, frantically looking around for something. He didn't have any little pets or anything that I knew of. _

_He trudged over towards me and sullenly picked up the flattened hat._

"_Oops," I say, breezily._

_No biggie. Just a hat, right?_

_No. That would be wrong. _

_"Oops," he said, mocking me. "Oops? You flattened her."_

_"Mason…? It's okay, it's just a hat, babe," I murmured. He was seriously scaring me. Why was he personifying his hat? _

_"Just a hat," he asked, looking at me, his eyes full of disbelief. _

_I look at the flattened object in his hand, and nod my head. "Yeah…"_

_"It's not **just** a hat, Jude! It's my favorite Stetson!" he wailed again. _

_I bit my bottom lip and shrugged. "I'm sorry?"_

"I'm sorry," he said, mimicking me again. "You're sorry? Did you not just hear me? It's my favorite Stetson."

_I smiled weakly, taking the hat from him and attempting to fluff it out a bit. "It's just a hat Mason," I murmured, trying desperately hard not exacerbate the situation, but judging by the way his face swelled up into a giant cherry, I wasn't doing a very good job. _

_"Correction, Jude, it's not even '**just **a hat' anymore," he said, snatching it back from out of grasp. "It's a damn pancake! Your big butt killed it!"_

_Do I have big butt? _

_I might have big butt…it's not like I look at it every chance I get. I do the jean test personally, if my jeans are tight, then I cut back on the junk food for a while _

"_I do **not** have a big butt!" I gasped, trying to look at it in the mirror doors of his closet. _

"Whatever," he snapped, laughing evilly. He put his thumb and pinky to his face as if he were talking on a phone. "Hello, Beyonce? You might want to do some more squats to make sure you're ass is up to par…Jude's Harrison's going to be in the area for the next couple of days."

I frown at Mason, as I sit down on the coffee table, well, makeshift coffee table, it's really a humongous chest big enough to hide _the Incredible Hulk_. But it's cute, it goes with the room's theme…kinda rugged/elegance.

Mason must feel my glare burning into neck, because he looks up at me curiously. I have half the mind to flash him the naughty finger, but decide against it. I'll just take back those Italian Leather boots I got him for Christmas…

I can't believe he left over here with Vommy or is it Teronica…I can never remember what the media finally decided calling them.

"I don't want to ride the plane," Veronica sniffles into Tommy's shirt collar.

My god girl, dry those tears up! Or at least stop snotting all over Tommy like that…major ugh-factor right there.

"Baby, it'll be fine," Tommy says soothingly, in the same voice he uses with me when I'm worried about something.

She blubbers for a little longer and he seems to have calmed her down some…until the pilot comes back into the room.

"Sorry for the wait folks. We should be ready for take off in 10 more minutes," he explains, as he motions for another guy to grab our luggage to put on the plane.

"Tom, I can't board that plane," she moans, clutching at his shirt collar again.

Now she's starting to get to me a little bit.

Is she having a premonition or something? Because if she is, she needs to let me know so I can make alternate means of travel…

I seen **Final Destination**…actually Tommy made me watch it one time…

"Baby, you're going to be just fine okay…it's only a four hour plane ride…"

I get up and sit in the seat next to her and pat her back along with Tommy. He did look like he had it under control, but now she's starting to hyperventilate.

"Veronica," I murmur softly, "You'll be fine. The worst part is the take off after that it's smooth sailing."

She mumbles something incoherently, wiping her tears. I can't even pay attention to what she's saying. For one thing, she's blubbering and for another, I can't get past the way she looks all crying and everything.

I hate her!

How can she look gorgeous while she's crying? It's not fair. When I cry my nose gets redder than Rudolph's, my makeup looks terrible and my eyes get red and swollen completing my high/intoxicated look.

"I'm fine with the takeoff part, I'm just scared of the not being able to get of in case of an emergency part," she sniffled. "It's better with a commercial flight…Tom failed to mention to me that it was a private jet."

I glare at Tom as she's telling me that, and reach around to hug her. Tommy rolls his eyes and glares at me. "How about you just catch a train then?"

"You know what, I should do that because there is no way that I'm getting on that plane," Veronica mumbles, looking between Tommy and me.

"Babe," he moans, "I have to be there at the dock in a few hours, I have that _thing_ I was telling you about," he whispers, kneeling down in front of her.

_Thing_? What _thing_ is talking about? Why don't I know about a _thing_?

I look at him curiously, but he's too occupied with calming down Barbie.

"I'll go by myself," she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're not traveling by yourself," Tommy said, standing up as if he has the final say.

"Do I look twelve years old to you Tommy?" she snaps.

Ooh…they're arguing…

And the remarkable thing about it is she's holding her own.

Wow.

I like that.

That right girl, don't give in to the baby blues!

What am I saying? I don't like her, why am I cheering her on? Well, it's okay since I'm only praising her mentally; I'm all contradictory up here.

"No, you don't look twelve years old," he says suggestively, squatting down in front of her again.

Ugh.

He did not just say that in front of me. I don't want to hear stuff like that.

I repeat: Ugh.

"Veronica…" he grunts, holding her hands in her lap.

"Tommy…" she replies in the same tone.

"I'll just take the train with her," I hear myself say.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Consider this alive again. Seriously. After a horrible school year with my wicked AP English teacher, I'm thinking about getting back to writing for just fun. Don't call it a comeback yet though, here's just a little bit to refresh your (and my) memory about the story. I promise I will get back to the thank you's and such on the next chapter which WILL not take 11 months to get out. Leave me some love to let me know if I stil got _it_. **

**-A**

* * *

"I'll just take the train with her."

"No you're not," Tommy scoffs.

"Yes, I will."

"You can't."

"Why not?" I ask innocently. That question could be categorized as stupid. I already know why. After Veronica had a train ride with me, there would be no more Vommy because I would push Veronica out of the train just as we reached top speed.

I'm kidding.

I might just tell her about every bad thing about Tommy I could think of though. That certainly wouldn't be beneath me.

"Why not," I ask again.

"Because…"

"Because why?"

"Because I said so."

Oh no buddy, you have to think of something better than that. When have I _not_ done something just because he said so? Hmm, let me think on this—NEVER. And I certainly will NOT begin starting anytime soon.

Pshh. _Because he said so_. Seriously, who does he think he is? Diane Keaton?

"If Jude doesn't mind, why do you mind?" Veronica pipes up.

That's right girl ask him questions. Make him elaborate!

"Because…"

Wonderful explanation, very articulate and well thought out.

"That's it. Veronica, you and I are going by train. Tommy, we'll meet you there," I say, with finality. My hands on my hips and stance only complete the finality.

"You meet us where?" Mason asks, finally finding a bottle of Smart Water. "Say what? What I miss?"

"Veronica and I are--"

"Jude thinks _she_ **_and_** Veronica are taking a train instead of the plane," Tommy interrupts me.

"Oh no, Jude, I bet there's bound to be a lot of exchanges, and you're not good with directions or time…"

"Hey, Veronica and I--"

"Veronica sucks at that type of thing too," Tommy interrupts me again. Is he trying to make a habit out of this?

"Hey!"

Not everyone can be frickin' Christopher Columbus like Tom and Mason are apparently. And she could be good at time management slash travel arrangements and stuff.

I'd expect the chauvinistic attitude from Tommy, but Mason's supposed to be on Barbie and my side.

Dammit Mason. You're on my shit list buddy. You're number 33.

"It's true," Veronica shrugs, dejectedly.

What is the matter with that girl! Doesn't she know when to bluff? You don't just show the enemy your cards. That's it during an exciting game of BS.

I'm through trying to help the girl out, strap her little behind to the jet. Put her at a window seat! Bring on the turbulence!

"Look, I'll take Veronica by train," Mason offers.

I open my mouth to interject once again, but, I do something I never do. I think _before_ speaking.

This could be good.

Let me think this out. Mason is escorting Veronica my train. That means Tommy, Myles, and me on the jet. Myles will be completely absorbed by his video game, which basically leaves Tommy and me.

Tommy Time!


End file.
